


Two-Faced Marigold

by honEy D (nitori_chan_san)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Doctor!Yuta, Doctor/Patient, Doyoung centric, Hanahaki Disease, Language of Flowers, M/M, Patient!Doyoung, Side KunTen, Slight Age Difference, Unhealthy Supression of Feelings, Unrequited DoKun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-31 12:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17849744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nitori_chan_san/pseuds/honEy%20D
Summary: Marigolds and Forget-me-nots; although different environmental conditions are preferred, they can grow together beautifully. A spring-like combination of orange and purple - the indication of a new start.





	Two-Faced Marigold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vesaer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesaer/gifts).



> **Prompt: Hanahaki Disease AU. Doyoung has to undergo surgery to save his life from the flowers growing in his lungs. His surgeon, Dr. Nakamoto, ends up saving his life without really having to use any kind of medical procedure.**
> 
> Dear vesaer, thank you for your lovely ideas! It was definitely a challenge to write this (I actually even changed prompts mid-January orz). I took some liberty with regard to the prompt since the way Yuta tries to heal Doyoung is in fact with a medical procedure, just not surgery. Since I'm terrible with deadlines, a few scenes may come across as rushed, but I'll try to let someone beta them as soon as possible;; I never expected it to become this long. Despite everything, I hope you’ll enjoy it!
> 
> A big thanks to Sam and Drey for helping me <3

Hanahaki Disease, or just Hanahaki for short: a sickness born out of unrequited love, which causes roots to start growing in your heart and lungs. The roots spread and make the sufferer cough up flower petals in the early stages, then full grown flowers in the final stage. The duration of it depends on each individual case, but in any of those cases it's important to take action soon if you’re not planning to die.

Though naturally curable by your unrequited love being returned - which also depends on the other party's awareness of your feelings and sadly doesn’t occur much - the only solution is undergoing surgery to remove the roots. It’s an intense process with a long recovery phase; after all, surgery on the heart is not a joke.

Despite the danger and the severeness of Hanahaki, today’s society has adapted to the disease quite well. Dying doesn’t occur if you address the problem prematurely and, of course, can pay for health care. In addition, Hanahaki clinics have been built all over the world with surgeons and nurses specialized in the sickness, who can take care of the treatment in the best way.

Kim Dongyoung, preferably called Doyoung, was one of the unfortunate souls suffering from Hanahaki Disease.

This is his story.

 

* * *

 

“Are you nervous?”

Doyoung turned his head away from the car window he had been silently looking through for the last fifteen minutes. From the driver’s seat, Taeyong shot him a quick look before focusing on the road again. Doyoung sighed and leaned back in his own seat heavily, releasing a sigh.

“Does it matter? It won’t change the facts.”

Taeyong clicked his tongue in irritation. “Do you always have to be so realistic? For god’s sake, you’re having an admission interview for heart surgery.”

“Well, what do you want me to say then?” Doyoung retorted, just as annoyed. He didn’t feel like talking about it. Especially not with Taeyong.

Taeyong sighed. “I don’t know, something that shows me how you’re truly feeling about all of this maybe? I think I deserve that much. Not everyone is willing to wake up at an ungodly hour on a Saturday to drive their best friend to a Hanahaki clinic without prior notice, without any details as of why.”

Doyoung pressed his lips in a thin line, guilt gnawing inside his chest. He was in fact very thankful for Taeyong’s willingness to help him no matter what.  “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Taeyong said immediately, already forgiving him and happy with the apology. Unbeknownst to Doyoung, the redhead was very worried about his friend and maybe just as nervous about this appointment as Doyoung himself. He reached over with his left arm and patted Doyoung’s thigh in a comforting gesture, before returning it to the steering wheel. “I know this must be hard for you. Just don’t shut me out, okay?”

Doyoung dragged a hand through his hair, a nervousness wrapping around his heart.

“Uh, well, if you really want to know…” He could see Taeyong look at him in interest from the corner of his eye. “It’s Kun.”

The confusion was hearable in the following silence.

“Huh?”

“I’m in love with Kun,” Doyoung snapped. He didn’t like to repeat himself. It was already embarrassing enough as it was.

Taeyong shot him a surprised look. “Wow. I mean… I knew you were attracted to him. You told me so before, but I didn’t know you…” The red-haired man didn’t finish his sentence and again an uncomfortable silence settled over the car until the only noise that could be heard was the humming sound of the wheels rolling over the asphalt of the highway.

“Isn’t he dating Ten?” Taeyong added softly after a while.

Doyoung wrapped his arms around himself. “Well, yes. That’s the problem. I know, but it doesn’t change my feelings for him.”

Qian Kun, the object of Doyoung’s affection, a Chinese man whom Doyoung knew ever since the last two years of high school when the other had moved from Fujian to Seoul. He was an intelligent, soft-spoken and polite individual with a lovely smile and an incredibly nice personality. As the class president back then, Doyoung had been assigned as Kun’s buddy to help him master the Korean language.

They soon found a mutual interest: singing, and music in general, and that helped them grown close rather quickly. It was a breath of fresh air for Doyoung since he mostly hung out with Taeyong and Ten who were both _very different_  from him.

Over time, he developed a crush on the Chinese man; Doyoung was very much into men, and Kun, with his pretty face and mature aura, sparked something inside him. Before Doyoung knew it, he was falling in love. It didn’t help that they both chose for the same major at the same university: Seoul National University School of Law.

The thing was, Doyoung never really intended to pursue his love for him. He kept treating it as a simple crush but held his options open in case Kun miraculously returned his feelings.

But of course, he didn’t.

And of course, out of all people, Kun started dating Ten.

Ten, whom Doyoung had dated for about three weeks in his freshman year of university before the other dumped him and asked for distance between them. Animosity had grown between them ever since, not really being able to go back to the friendship that they used to have. They still considered each other as friends while in a group, but never really met as just the two of them anymore.

The harsh truth was that their fun high school times were over.

How much Doyoung loved Ten, maybe he hated him even more. Ten dated and slept around a lot, and the fact that Kun started dating _that_ Ten had caused something inside Doyoung’s heart to break. He ignored the feeling, tried to dismiss it, but a month later there was a sting in his chest and a few days after that he was coughing up orange petals with a red center.

By then he knew he was fucked.

“We’re almost there,” Taeyong announced after a while. The Hanahaki clinic was quite far from where they both lived, but they were in luck it was still situated in Seoul. It was one of the better ones in the country, too.

Doyoung wanted to say something back to his friend, but a sudden tickling sensation in his throat stopped him in his tracks. He tried to swallow it away, but it seemed to give the opposite effect of what he wanted to achieve and he coughed.

Flower petals left his mouth and fell straight into his palms, a burning feeling left behind in his windpipe and lungs.

Doyoung closed his hands around the petals in a fist and tried to hide them from Taeyong.To no avail of course. Taeyong was very attentive after all.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“There’s no blood, right?”

Doyoung snorted. “Are you asking because you’re worried about me or because you’re afraid I’ll stain your precious car.”

The corners of Taeyong’s turned upwards. “The truth? A bit of both.” It made Doyoung hum in amusement.

With some protest from his friend, Doyoung opened the car window and threw the petals out, wiping his hands on his pants after. And with it already open, Doyoung took the chance to breathe in some fresh air, to enjoy the way the wind ruffled his hair and how Taeyong complained that it was ruining his.

He closed his eyes, hoping that luck would be on his side for once. Hoping that things would be alright sooner rather than later.

 

* * *

 

“Number two o five.”

Doyoung watched the small paper in his hands with his number and walked up to the register. A woman, she couldn’t be older than forty, with black hair pulled up in a ponytail and rectangular glasses welcomed him with a smile.

“How can I help you?”

Doyoung scraped his throat once and swallowed a leftover flower petal from his earlier coughing fit. “My name is Kim Dongyoung and I called yesterday to make an appointment for possible surgery. My date of birth is February 1st, 1996.”

The woman readjusted the glasses on the bridge of her nose and squinted at the computer screen in front of her, typing in the information Doyoung had provided her with. She hummed with her work.

“Yes. It's in the system,” she told him nicely. “Your assigned surgeon is Doctor Nakamoto. He’s in room three. You can just knock in the door and walk in.”

Doyoung nodded. He pointed to the hallway on his right. “Should I go that way?” The closer he came to his appointment, the more uncertain he’d become. The tightening knot in his stomach was enough indication of that.

The woman nodded. “Yes. It’s the second door on the left.” She paused before sending him a knowing smile. “Doctor Nakamoto is a very capable man. He’s quite close to your age too, so maybe that will help. Don’t be too nervous. These days we get a lot of patients suffering from Hanahaki. It’s very much curable.”

It was meant to sound comforting, but Doyoung didn’t feel like it helped to ease his anxiousness in the slightest. In fact, it seemed to make it worse. He shot her a fakish smile back and bowed.

“I’m sure it is… Thank you.” With those words, Doyoung left the waiting room behind.

The door of doctor Nakamoto’s office was already open. Doyoung hated it, nerves spiking. With a closed door, he could just knock and be let inside. With an open one it was a little different; was he welcome to just enter? Should he wait outside? Should he first knock then enter?

In the end, he decided on the third option.

“Sorry for the intrusion, I’m here for my appointment?” He ended his sentence as if he was asking a question.

Even though the woman behind the counter had warned him, still Doyoung was surprised to be met with a young and handsome face, framed by blond hair that was rather long and messy. Dark brown eyes resided behind round, old school glasses and there was a smile on the man’s face that could be mistaken for a grin.

“You must be Dongyoung,” the man said, voice surprisingly melodious. “I will be your assigned surgeon, Nakamoto Yuta.”

Doyoung bowed towards the man, eyeing him a little cautiously. He couldn’t be much older than he, himself, was. It actually made him feel quite uncomfortable.

“I prefer to be called Doyoung.”

“Doyoung then. I’m twenty-six in case you were wondering,” Doctor Nakamoto added with a mysterious look. He gestured to one of the two chairs that were separated by a small table.  

“You’re Japanese, right?” Doyoung asked a little impulsively, judging by the other’s name.

Doctor Nakamoto hummed. “You’re right. I am.” An amused smile. “Do you have more questions about me?”

“I- No.”

Doyoung didn’t know what else to say, so he just settled for taking place in one of the chairs. He glanced around the room on instinct. It was a little different from the usual doctor’s offices with the purple carpet and the many dried flowers decorating the walls. Posters and messy cabinets added to the atmosphere and gave life to the room. He noticed that there was a mix of Korean and Japanese characters on them.

The Doctor hummed a to Doyoung unfamiliar tune as he sat down on the other chair, picking up a notebook and a pencil. Doyoung immediately felt protective.

“Are you going to take notes?”

Yuta looked at him then tilted his head to the side.

“Yes. Does that bother you?”

“No, but-”

“So yes, it _does_ bother you.” Yuta didn’t sound unkind as he said the words - as if he was genuinely curious why he was so against him taking notes. It made Doyoung self-conscious. He didn’t like people to dig into his life. Besides, this was only about surgery, right?

Doyoung shrugged. “I just don’t see what you should be taking notes for, that’s all.”

“That’s why I’m the doctor and you’re the patient, isn’t that right?” It sounded innocent, _almost_. But it agitated Doyoung; the words flustered him and he was aware that the doctor was being an annoying piece of shit on purpose. He couldn’t help but give the other a very noticeably fake smile. Yuta just nodded and tapped the empty page with his pencil.

“Good. Now that’s out of the way, let’s start by-”

Doyoung suddenly started coughing.

He tried to hold it in but that only made it worse, the petals stuck in his throat, almost choking him. They tumbled from his lips, the combination of the earthy flavor of the flowers and his iron-tasting blood making him shiver. With teary eyes, he looked at his hands. Immediately he hid the colorful bunch by making a fist; it had become some sort of automatic response. He wanted as few people as possible to know about his condition.

“Show me your hand,” Doctor Nakamoto suddenly told him - or rather ordered him. There was an urgent edge to the words that made Doyoung actually release the grip on the petals. Doyoung had seen them often; the ones that were bright orange with a red center. A few specks of blood made them look a little horrific. In a beautiful way, as morbid as that sounded. He didn’t always cough up the same flowers, but these were the most common ones.

Doyoung studied Yuta’s face. He seemed to be deep in thought. The way he analyzed the flower petals didn’t help Doyoung’s feelings of self-consciousness. Just when he wanted to say something about it, the doctor spoke up.

He sounded surprised. “It’s Marigold… The nurse didn’t tell me.”

There was a short silence until Doyoung dropped the petals in the trash bin next to the chair, unaware how Yuta’s eyes followed the torn up flowers, with a longing to touch them. Doyoung wiped his hands on his skinny jeans and cleared his throat. This was adding to his irritation. He just wanted to know when his surgery would take place, not this weird conversation with a doctor that seemed to be too young to really know what he was doing.

“I don’t know what that is and frankly, I don’t really care,” Doyoung told him. “All I know is that I feel awful. I’m sick and I need these feelings to be gone. I’m a student, with finals just around the corner. I-” Doyoung wanted to say that he didn’t care about what happened with his memories of Kun, while in fact, he  _dreaded_ losing them. He wasn’t stupid enough to lie to someone specialized in Hanahaki disease.

“Even though I know I will lose him if I do this, I have to. My future is more important than love that will never be reciprocated.”

“Doyoung-ssi,” Yuta interrupted him almost rudely, looking right at him, gaze serious and passionate. Doyoung noticed how unfazed the doctor was by his admittance to loving another man.  “Did you know that Hanahaki Disease is a defense mechanism of the body? It warns you to not lose your mind over this one person that won’t return your love the way you want it. The mental pain of unrequited love can stay forever and that’s why Hanahaki becomes worse with the time. It wants to refrain you from feeling pain for too long. The only cure is to undergo surgery to remove the flowers, but also the memories and the person that has caused those flowers to grow.”

Doyoung tapped his foot against the floor impatiently. “I know this.”

Yuta nodded. “But I believe there’s another solution. A solution I’ve been working on for a while. And I can proudly tell you that I’ve successfully cured two people from Hanahaki without making them undergo surgery.”

The foot-tapping stopped and Doyoung stared confusedly at the doctor who claimed something so  _big._ He had done his research before coming to the hospital and another cure just didn’t exist. How could this man be claiming he had one when Doyoung hadn’t found any proof?

“Why haven’t I heard of this before then? I’m not going to be a guinea pig for you.”

Yuta shook his head. “That’s not what I’m asking of you at all. Besides that… The cure I’ve been working on is therapy. FOOL-therapy.”

Doyoung couldn’t help but let out a strangled laugh. “Therapy for fools? Do you think this is a joke? I am hurting! Some counseling isn’t going to help me.” He wanted to stand up and leave, but the young man in front of him held up his hand. Doyoung didn’t know for sure, but the surgeon seemed to become more frustrated as well.

“Please calm down. FOOL is just short for Falling Out Of Love. It’s therapy to fall out of love with the person you’re in love with. It sure is a lot less expensive and a lot less risky than surgery on the heart. I’ve never been a fan of removing someone’s memories of someone they care so deeply about. It’s cruel, illogical. And as someone with a degree in Psychology as well, I think there are other ways to make the petals disappear.”

He stood and walked towards the wall where a large poster with different flowers decorated the white surface, then pointed to a red flower. “You’ve been coughing up Marigold. The nurse said it was red Camellia, but there’s a subtle difference in the petal formation. Plus the meanings are _very_ different. If it were really Camellia petals, yes, maybe surgery would’ve been the better option, but Marigold?” He shook his head.

“Marigold includes some other feelings besides just love. It’s more complicated. I think I can work on those particular feelings with you through therapy. Intense therapy of course, since you’re already in a very far state of Hanahaki.”

Doyoung swallowed. He never considered the meaning of the flowers he was coughing up. Why would he? It felt unlikely that those so-called meanings had an influence on the solution. It almost sounded too good to be true. Almost shady. Doyoung had no idea if this guy was the real deal or not.

However, to be fair, surgery scared him shitless. He didn’t feel ready to let go of Kun; the mere thought of it made his throat close up. On top of that, surgery always included risks, especially on organs as fragile as the heart. The recovery would be long and studying would become even more tedious than it already was.

What did he really have to lose at this point?

His life, but….

Doyoung nervously licked his bottom lip. He couldn’t believe he was considering this. “H-how intense?”

Yuta walked back to the couch with a grin and sat down, crossing his legs almost immediately. “It’s three weeks with just one day between each appointment. Of course, you have to be comfortable to tell me things about yourself that you keep a secret from others. I expect full openness. In return, I will be open too.”

“Is it expensive?” Doyoung retorted. “Because I am still a student.”

Yuta nodded, already expecting the question. “I will pay for most of the expenses since health insurance won’t cover it. I only ask a small price of you. If I’d do it for free I would lose credibility.” The doctor’s hand went through his blond hair, not making it any neater. He continued, “Normally I could schedule you with another doctor if you’re uncomfortable with me, but since we’re short on time we don’t have that luxury. It’s either me or surgery. It’s up to you, Dongyoung-ssi.”

Doyoung pictured Kun; his faltering smile when he heard that his longtime friend wouldn’t recognize him anymore. He pictured him clinging to Ten, asking him if he was having a nightmare and Ten shaking his head and comforting him.

He couldn’t do that to him. He couldn’t do that to himself, either.

“I’ll do it. When do we start?” He paused, surprised by his sudden resolution.

The smile he received this time was genuine. Yuta was a handsome man that was for sure. He handed him a business card which Doyoung took hesitantly.

“Therapy will take place at my home since I have a special room for the treatment. I expect you tomorrow at 7 pm.”

Doyoung stared at it a little helplessly. He had no idea what he was getting himself into.

“Hey.”

Doyoung looked up at the gentle call, meeting eyes with Yuta who gave him an encouraging nod.

“You can do this. We’re going to heal you.Together.”

Somehow - Doyoung thought it was stupid - he felt reassured by the words. He had to believe them.

For Kun.

For himself.

 

* * *

 

The building Doyoung found himself in front of was rather uncommon for a man Yuta’s age. It was a rustic, two storey house with a pointed roof, built in a traditional way. Doyoung wondered how much money Yuta made to be able to pay for a house like this.

It had a very small front yard with various types of flowers that _had_ to be resistant to the early January cold. Doyoung had to admit that it looked lovely. The cheery vibe that the colorful plants gave off made it less questionable to visit a stranger’s home in the dark.

On the other hand, this could all be a cover and Yuta could be your local weirdo into Wicca.

A lantern-shaped light, attached to the wall, lit up when he walked up the porch. With some hesitation, he knocked on the door.

It didn’t take long for it to open. This time Yuta’s attire was more casual; he was still wearing light brown slacks with a white dress shirt, but somehow he didn’t look so doctor-esque as he did before. Maybe it had something to do with the absence of his glasses.

He was welcomed inside with a smile. “Doyoung-ssi! Come in, come in.”

Yuta’s fast walking and acting pace thereafter left Doyoung a little helpless. He still ridded himself from his coat, scarf and shoes as hurriedly as he could, to follow the Doctor, who had already started to climb up the stairs.

The small staircase led to the second floor, where Yuta was already holding open the door of the most left room

“Go ahead and sit down. Make yourself at home. I’m going to make some tea. Any preferences?”

Doyoung, a bit overwhelmed by everything, including nerves, wasn’t really listening.

“Huh? Oh, regular tea is just fine.”

“Okay!” Came the cheery reply. And gone he was. It all seemed to happen in a blink of an eye.

Doyoung let out a sigh and decided to take a look around the room. It was an old fashioned study, quite different from his office in the Hanahaki clinic. Like the house itself, it was quite peculiar for a young man such as Yuta. There was a lot of wooden furniture - Doyoung guessed it was oak: the desk, the chairs, and several bookshelves. Again posters and books related to flowers and the human mind were present in high quantity. Yuta was obviously someone who took his job home with him.

While passing the bookshelves, his eyes caught a glister and then fell on a small silver box. It was decorated beautifully with geometric motives and it obviously stood out between the rest.

Just when he wanted to inspect it more closely, Yuta had come back with their teas.

“Ready?” He asked him while taking place on the old, brown leather couch, situated left to the desk, and setting the mugs down on the coffee table in front of him.

Again Doyoung sighed. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

-

Yuta was an odd guy, Doyoung concluded after an hour-long conversation with the Doctor. He made him feel comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. Not that he had ever seen a therapist before, but Yuta seemed to be a very _atypical_ one. He listened well but always had a playful or sarcastic remark ready. However, it was never mean or judging.

There was something about the man that irked Doyoung, but he had to admit that it felt more like conversing with a friend, than he felt like he was having a therapy session.

“Hm, so how many times a day do you throw up?”

Doyoung winced at the word. “You mean how many times I have an attack?” He said irritably.

The corners of Yuta’s mouth turned up. He tapped the now filled page with his pencil. “No. Throw up. No need to make it sound prettier than it is. I mean, sure it starts with a coughing fit, but the flowers _do_ come out like you’re throwing up.” He shook his head. “Doctors and their euphemisms.”

Crossing his arms, Doyoung commented: “You’re a doctor.”

That shut Yuta up for a second.

“Ah right.”

Doyoung snorted triumphantly, enjoying the moment, before he finally answered.

“Normally, once in two hours. But it depends. At night I suffer from it more. I would say it’s a good thing because I want as few people as possible to know about my… Condition. But it’s a pain when I have to wake up early in the morning.”

Yuta hummed in understanding. “I see. The coughing always worsens when lying down. Once in two hours is quite a lot. Luckily, it’s not yet audible in your voice, but it’s possible you’ll experience some hoarseness soon. I can’t do anything about it though, except for recommending to drink tea with honey. As I said before, you’re in quite a far stage of Hanahaki already. I’d say at stage three out of four, which will approximately take two to three weeks before it develops into stage four.”

“What happens then?” Doyoung asked worriedly.

Yuta sighed. “Let’s not think about that too much.”

They talked some more about Doyoung’s experiences with the sickness so far until Yuta advised them to call it quits for the day. Therapy was emotionally intense and draining after all.

“You have a nice place,” Doyoung complimented while Yuta went through a drawer to search for something.

“Thank you.” Yuta walked back to the couch with something in his hands. “I inherited it from my grandparents from my mother’s side. They built houses all over the world. We didn’t know they had this lovely house in Seoul until they both passed away and we discovered that they had gifted it to me. It was written in their will and all.” There was a faraway longing in the doctor’s eyes.

“I wish I could thank them,” he admitted, but he shook his head right after. “Oh well. Enough about that. I have something for you, to keep with you in the upcoming weeks.”

Yuta handed him some sort of diary. The cover had a dark green color with text in golden letters that read ‘Flower Journal’. Doyoung caressed it and opened it, revealing empty, lined pages, like a regular notebook. Only when he flipped through the pages closer to the end the content changed: A quarter of the diary was filled with pictures of different flower petals, along with the names of the flower they belonged to.

“Thank you,” Doyoung started hesitantly. “But what is the exact purpose of this?”

Yuta’s face lit up, apparently happy he asked. “It’s a flower journal. It’s something I designed, specifically for this therapy. It has the purpose of finding out which flowers you are coughing up. In the upcoming days or week, you will try to stick the different petals in this notebook with some comments. I will provide more insight into the meaning of those flowers, and together we will sort out the feelings for this Kun of yours, that go with that meaning.”

Doyoung guessed he got what the Doctor was aiming at. “And by understanding my _exact_ feelings for him, I have to try to fall out of love with him?”

Yuta clapped. “Oh, you’re smart. I like it.” He turned more serious then. “Yes, it’s something like that. Only by understanding what you feel and where those feelings are coming from, you can try to set them aside. Maybe dismantle or invalidate them even.” He stood up abruptly and stretched his arms.  

“But that’s for another day. You need some sleep. _I_ need some sleep.”

With that Doyoung agreed wholeheartedly.

-

Sadly sleep was something the universe didn’t seem to grant him.

 

* * *

 

“So, this is Marigold?” Doyoung pointed to the few petals he had stuck in the notebook.

It had been a tedious task to do; he had to assemble the ones that weren’t torn up, covered in spit or blood. Plus, he didn’t enjoy looking at them - despite their beauty -, especially since they made him feel awful and reminded him of Kun every single time he coughed them up.  

It was the second appointment of Doyoung’s FOOL-therapy - oh how he loathed that name. Again he and Yuta were seated on the brown leather couch inside the Doctor’s house, teas piping hot in front of them as they conversed.

“Yes. It’s fascinating,” Yuta said, some wonder laced in his words. His round glasses were back - Doyoung thought it made the Doctor look closer to his real age - and currently balancing on the tip of his nose as he paged through a rather thick textbook, written fully in Japanese. “We don’t see them often in the clinic. I mean, they’re not my favorite flowers, but they sure are beauti- Oh got it!”

Doyoung had already made peace with the fact the Doctor could be all over the place and talked a lot.

“And?” He asked impatiently.

Yuta gave him a pointed look, before turning back to his therapist-mode. “Patience is a virtue, young man. So.” He dragged out the ‘o’. “Marigolds are special because they have different symbolizations. Modern meanings are related to the sun since it’s a flower that flourishes in summer. It stands for warmth and beauty. Also, winning the affection of someone through hard work.”

Warm and beautiful. That sounded exactly like Kun. And yes, he had tried several times to make the other notice him. With very well-thought-out methods of course.

“I think I can place those feelings,” Doyoung commented a little sheepishly. Yuta huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah. I can imagine. But that’s not everything. And here comes the interesting part.” The Doctor dragged his finger to a lower section of the page. “They also stand for cruelty and coldness related to jealousy.”

Doyoung frowned.

“Not only that, but it can also signify despair and even grief because of the loss of love. Now, I believe that you don’t ought to have _all_ these feelings for Kun. However, Marigolds  _do_ indicate a contradiction between warm and cold feelings. Since grief is a little too heavy, let’s keep it on the jealousy part. Are you jealous of Kun in any way?”

Cold feelings? Towards Kun? Doyoung couldn’t even remember one time that they fought. It was strange for sure. Especially since these flowers were the primary ones he coughed up.

“Doyoung, please speak your mind. I can’t help you if you don’t think out loud.” The discontent was audible.

“It’s a habit.”

Yuta placed his glasses on his head, exposing his forehead in the process. Doyoung only now noticed the various piercings decorating the Doctor’s ears. Was that even allowed in his field of work? But knowing Yuta for several days already made it clear that he wouldn’t care about trivial matters like that. It kind of suited his image too.

“I know, but don’t you think that keeping all of your thoughts and feelings to yourself is unhealthy? That’s what you’re here for, after all.” Yuta reasoned with him and okay, he might have a point, but Doyoung still took it as a personal attack.

“I’m not that reserved,” Doyoung countered.

“Not when you talk about others, but when the subject changes to _you,_  you try to dismiss it as soon as possible.”

Doyoung pressed his lips together. “Fine. I was just thinking that Kun and cold jealousy are not a good match. I can’t place those _at all._ I’ve never had malicious feelings towards him? So maybe the Marigold only represent the good side this time.”

Yuta shook his head. “It’s not that simple. You told me Kun is dating someone…” He looked at Doyoung expectantly.

“What about it?”

A sigh. “Like this, we’re getting nowhere. Let me be blunt: Are you jealous of or angry at Kun because he’s dating someone who is not you?”

Doyoung crossed his arms, frown returning. “No.”

“You’re not a bad person for admitting you’d rather see yourself with-”

“I am _not_ mad at Kun for dating someone!” Doyoung snapped. He had enough of this cross-examination. Time was ticking and this conversation felt nothing but pointless. “I am happy when he is happy. _Genuinely._ I wouldn’t date me either if I had the choice. How can I blame him for it then? Do I like the person he’s dating? No, not really. But I _love_ Kun. There’s nothing, and with that I mean _nothing_ cold about it.”

“Why would you say that about yourself?” Yuta asked kindly.

Doyoung groaned and buried his face in his hands.

“Can we drop it?” He saw Yuta open his mouth to say something else and pressed on: “Please?” He didn’t feel like talking about his insecurities. His self-esteem was not _that_ low, but there were things that made him simply unhappy about himself. It didn’t have anything to do with Hanahaki and so he wasn’t planning to discuss it. Simple as that.

With a sigh, Yuta closed his book and laid it down on the table. He rubbed his temple.

“Okay. Let’s leave it here for today. We’re not going to make progress like this. Just-” Yuta left a pause to think about what to say next carefully. “Just remember that I’m here to help you and that I won’t judge you for what you say. All your secrets stay in this room. I know it’s hard, but try to trust me.”

The genuine words caused a small amount of guilt to rise to Doyoung’s chest. He knew Yuta was just trying to help…

“I’m so tired,” Doyoung admitted randomly, still holding his head. He didn’t know what caused the sudden self pity-party, but he needed to express it somehow.

A hand touched his shoulders, making Doyoung flinch lightly. It was not an unappreciated gesture though.

“I know. And I don’t want to force you to admit things you’re not ready to admit, but I don’t want you to die either. Time is just not a luxury we have.”

Doyoung hummed.

He didn’t want to die either.

 

* * *

 

Just like that one and a half week had passed.

With a nose red from the cold and hair coated with a thin layer of white, Doyoung dropped his bag next to the empty chair in the packed lunchroom. Ungracefully, he sat down on it and undid his scarf and coat. The change in temperature - from the icy weather to the stuffy warmth of the cafe - was welcome, yet a little suffocating.

“Sorry for being late. I forgot something on the way, so I had to go back,” Doyoung half-apologized to his friends who were already seated at the table.

The truth was that Doyoung had a bad coughing fit just before he was supposed to leave. Normally he’d recover from them fast, but this time there were some small blue petals along with the Marigold and Daisies. The fit had left him nauseous, dizzy and his head was pounding.

The sick feeling after coughing started a few days ago, and the first time it had overtaken him, he wasn’t even able to go to his scheduled therapy session.

“It’s okay,” Kun commented, gentle smile aimed at him. Doyoung felt a tightening in his chest before returning the smile with one of his own. He looked handsome as always. Chestnut colored hair down, eyes sparkling, dimple showing. His clothing style was always simple, yet stylish so that nothing took away the attention from what really mattered; his expression-rich face.

Ten, who was next to Kun, squinted his eyes at Doyoung. “You’re never late.”

Doyoung met Ten’s gaze as he blew some warmth in his hands. He really needed to buy some gloves.

“What about it?” Doyoung countered.

“Nothing. Just wondering what got you so disorganized. It happens a lot lately.”

Doyoung sighed and grabbed the menu to read through the various coffees the cafe had to offer. He blinked a few times when the letters didn’t come into focus.

“Why are _you_ of all people accusing me of being disorganized? So what? I can’t even forget something?”

“Add cranky to that, geez.”

Doyoung wanted to snap something back at him, but a hand on his thigh, belonging to Taeyong, stopped him.  

“You okay?”

Not really, but there was no way Doyoung was going to admit that. So he just settled for: “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He could feel Taeyong’s gaze burning on the side of his face, but he tried to ignore it as best as he could.

They ordered and received their coffees, and a chai tea for Ten, soon after. Their topics of conversation shifted away from Doyoung, and the latter was more than thankful for that.

“Actually,” Ten said mysteriously, putting down his cup. “Today, Kun and I are together for seven months.” Even Kun seemed surprised at the comment, but a fond expression grew on his face as he locked eyes with his boyfriend.

“Time really flies, huh? How nice.” Doyoung couldn’t stand it. The way Kun looked at Ten like he was _everything._ The way Ten looked like he was in love. Why did he have to mention it now?

“Congratulations,” he said nonetheless, with a tiny smile. “I’m sure many months will follow.”

“Indeed,” Taeyong added. “I’m happy for you. Especially that there seems to be someone who can finally tame Ten.”

Ten snorted in amusement. “Are you sure it’s not the other way around? Because Kun here is very-” A hand covered his mouth suddenly to refrain him from ending his sentence.

“That’s enough,” Kun said with a roll of his eyes. Taeyong grinned at their antics, but Doyoung couldn’t find himself to do the same. His head suddenly started pounding a little more, and he felt like throwing up - but for different reasons than Hanahaki.

Doyoung’s phone vibrated in his pocket then. Happy with the distraction, he fished it out and was surprised the see Yuta’s name on the display. The Doctor had given him his phone number in case of emergency, and, as the other had put it with that stupid grin of his, if he felt lonely and needed to talk about his feelings.

Actually, the only one who had made use of the number exchange was Yuta himself, checking up on Doyoung daily to make sure he was alright. Although he never told the other so, Doyoung cherished the texts; glad someone worried about him.

_Doctor Nakamoto: Are you coming today or are you still not feeling well enough?_

Without thinking much Doyoung quickly typed out a reply.

_You: I’ll be there._

_Doctor Nakamoto: Good! ^-^_

Doyoung rolled his eyes at the emoji and pocketed his phone again.

“Who was that?”

Ten eyed him curiously, making Doyoung feel uncomfortable.

“No one important. But having said that.” He turned to Kun and Taeyong. “I have to leave soon. I have an important appointment.”

“With whom?”

An unexplainable tension was building up, and Doyoung felt it, churning under his fingertips. “None of your concern.”

“Oh come on, Doyoungie-”

“Don’t call me that, Chittaphon.”

Taeyong came between them. “Stop it, you two. Can we please enjoy one of the rare times we’re all free, instead of bickering?” He turned to Doyoung then, eyes serious. “I think it’s time you told them.”

Doyoung was so surprised that he wasn’t able to respond, heart leaping to his throat. His eyes quickly shifted to Kun and then back to Taeyong, shooting him a warning look.

Ten immediately made use of the silence. “Oh? Tell us what? Do you have a special someone maybe?” He asked while wiggling his eyebrows. Kun slapped his boyfriend’s arm.

“I don’t think we should meddle into Doyoung’s love life. If he wants to date then-”

“I am _not_ dating _anyone_!”

The hand that had come down on the table harshly caught the attention of the two girls at the table next to them, as well as his friends’, who were surprised by his outburst.

But Doyoung was done with it. He didn’t want Kun to think he was dating. For some _stupid_ reason, he couldn’t stand the thought.

And then he felt it. They were coming up his throat, clawing against the insides of his windpipe. Doyoung quickly held a hand in front of his mouth when a sudden rush of petals slipped through, a few of them falling on the table.

Next, he started running towards the cafe’s bathroom - Ten’s hand, that had stretched out towards him, went unnoticed.

 

* * *

 

“You look awful,” was the first thing Yuta said to him when he opened the door. Doyoung, too nauseous and dizzy to reply properly, just murmured something incomprehensible as he stepped inside.

The sudden increase in temperature and humidity didn’t help at all. He managed to shrug off his coat, and with his hands, numb from the freezing weather that came in hand in hand with Seoul's winter, he basically tore the shoes from his feet and dropped them to the floor.

He vaguely noticed Yuta looking at his watch. “You’re early.”

Doyoung shrugged and leaned against the wall when another wave of dizziness washed over him. It was meant to look casual, but it was more searching for support than anything else.

“I didn’t feel well. Didn’t know where else to go.” It was only partly true; the fact that now all of his friends, including Kun, were aware of his condition was something that upset him greatly. He wasn't ready for the silence of his apartment to allow him to drown in self-pity. 

He heard Yuta say something and followed him up the stairs. But with each step, his feet turned heavier as if they were tied to lead. Everything started spinning suddenly and he broke out in cold sweat. His inner turmoil was forgotten and speedily, he put his hand against the wall. He barely registered Yuta touching his shoulder; all his focus was used to keep standing upright and to not throw up right on the spot. He saw the Doctor’s mouth moving, but no sound got through to him.

“Oh god, I don’t feel so-” Doyoung whined. Next, his legs gave out underneath him and he fell to his knees, immediately taken over by a heavy coughing fit. He threw up blue petals in a rapid tempo, holding his stomach while doing so.

Somewhere in the distance, he could distinguish a curse in Japanese, before he was robbed off every sense and lost consciousness.

-

When Doyoung came by, he registered that he was lying on something soft. Only when his eyes finally fluttered open, he also noticed that his surroundings had changed. His head was still hurting, his stomach still weak, but he felt considerably better than before.

He wanted to sit up but was pushed back by a hand on his chest.

“You need to stay down for a little longer,” Yuta’s voice was stern, but quickly shifted in a gentler tone. “I put on the electric blanket to keep you warm. You haven’t been out for long. Three minutes max, I think.”

“Okay,” Doyoung simply replied with a dry throat. He wasn’t stupid enough not to listen to an expert. Although he forgot the fact so now and then, Yuta was a doctor first after all.

The older man placed a small, wet towel over his forehead. It had a nice aroma to it. Lavender.

Doyoung studied the room he was in. It was surprisingly light and furnished modernly, with a lot of grays and whites. One thing that immediately sprung to the eye, was a painting with a field of small purple flowers. It was pretty.

He finally shifted his head so that he could look at Yuta, who had been suspiciously quiet all this time.

“How did you even relocate me that fast?” Doyoung muttered.

Yuta snorted. “Seems like you feel better, judging on your usual crankiness,” he mused. “You’re not _that_ heavy, so I could drag you to my bedroom. And, luckily, I have a platform bed.”

Doyoung tried to sit up partially. Yuta let him this time and handed him a glass of water, which the younger took gratefully, gulping it down in one go. It was lukewarm and he distinguished the flavor of honey. Probably to calm his aching throat.

“Hanahaki isn’t the cause of this, right?” Doyoung asked, frown decorating his forehead. He had done some research before and being sick like this wasn’t one of the symptoms.

“Technically it is,” Yuta stated. He crossed his legs. “You’ve been coughing up Bluebells. They’re very poisonous and dangerous. If you’d take a bite of a real one, in nature, you could die. Related to Hanahaki Disease they’ve been known to cause severe sickness.” He dragged a hand down his face. “You’re a real handful, aren’t you? First Marigolds, now Bluebells…”

Doyoung sat up properly now, handing Yuta the wet towel. The doctor dipped it in a small bucket he had filled with water and placed the towel back on Doyoung’s forehead with a gentle smile. Doyoung was thankful for the amiable treatment.

“What do they stand for?”

“Thankfulness,“ the Doctor said with a yawn. He immediately apologized for it. “Sorry, I barely slept last night. But from the top of my head, I remember it had to do with constancy as well.”

Doyoung sank in his thoughts. He decided to try to speak those out loud.

“From the moment I met Kun, he was a stable factor in my life. A person that I could always fall back on. Whenever things got hard, especially family-related problems, he was there, talking with me. He gave me more confidence.” Doyoung smiled to himself. “Kun is a really good talker. Very charming when he speaks, with much conviction. So much that it’s almost impossible not to believe in yourself.”

“He sounds like a good person,” Yuta commented.

Doyoung nodded. “He is. One of the best I know.”

“That’s a very high compliment, coming from you.”

“I’ll always be thankful for him.”

“You know,” Yuta started while rising to his feet. “Thankfulness is one of the most eminent emotions present in love. Sometimes, love is purely derived from it, and that’s when you should be cautious. Love shouldn’t depend on thankfulness only, it would make it toxic or-”

“Poisonous,” Doyoung finished, in awe with the theory.

Yuta winked and snapped his fingers at him. “I’m so glad you’re a patient who catches on quickly. But yes. Look, I know your love for Kun goes deeper than just thankfulness, but try to go back to the roots of your feelings for him. Try to reason with yourself and make the gratitude less important.”

“How?” Doyoung had no idea how to do that.

“It’s one thing to recognize your gratitude for someone, but it’s on a whole other level to feel like you’re forever indebted to them. Which you are not. Be honest with me, Doyoung. Do you feel like you owe Kun something?”

The younger thought for a moment. “Well, yes. The least I can do for him is to be just as kind to him as he has been to me. To repay him for that.”

“Aha!” Yuta exclaimed, pointing to Doyoung from his position. “But what if he did something _unspeakable?_  What if he- let me think… What if he killed Taeyong because he wanted to be the only important one in your life. It’s a little dramatic, I admit, but would you forgive him?”

Doyoung snorted at the weird suggestion. “I suppose not?”

“Exactly,” Yuta said with a grin. “Kun is probably a really good person. If what you told me about him is true, then I think he doesn’t need anything in return for his kindness. It’s just who he is. So being thankful is okay, being obsessed with it and thus becoming afraid of doing something that he might interpret as wrong, is _not_ okay.”

Doyoung blinked, trying to absorb all the things the Doctor told him. He needed to dive deeper into it, but… in a peculiar way, it made sense.

“Wow. I think I get it now.”

“Good.” Yuta patted his thigh. “Now rest some more. I’ll wake you in two hours or so, and then you can go home. I’ll prescribe you some antibiotics, nothing too heavy. That will definitely be of help in the upcoming days." He moved towards the door. "If you need me, I’ll be in the next room.”

“Wait!” Doyoung blurted. There was a question he needed to ask to satisfy his curiosity. “The flowers on the painting, what are they?”

Yuta halted in the door opening, and for some reason, the image of his still-in-the-light figure, that was ready to enter the darkness of the hallway - as if something in his person had changed from light to dark -, struck Doyoung as lonely.

”They’re Forget-Me-Nots, my favorite kind of flowers,” was the answer he received.

Thereafter, de Doctor turned off the lights and gently closed the door.

Today had been the first time Doyoung could really imagine Yuta as a doctor and surgeon. He was aware that Yuta didn’t have to do all of this for him; he was sure another therapist wouldn’t have done the same. He could’ve sent Doyoung to the hospital and make him stay there for a day. Instead, he chose to help him himself.

Doyoung was thankful for that.

The exhaustion, from being ill and everything that happened in the cafe earlier that day, finally started to creep up to him. Doyoung let his eyes fall shut, trying to empty his head by imagining an empty, white space with nothingness extending endlessly. It worked and, for the first time in days, the young law student slept peacefully.

 

* * *

 

Four days later, the Bluebells were gone.

Yuta was ecstatic, happy that his therapy seemed to do its work. Doyoung was pleasantly surprised too, gaining faith for the possibility that he didn’t have to forget Kun.

 

* * *

 

It was an awful idea, Doyoung was aware of that.

He just didn’t have the heart to reject Kun’s offer to study together for their upcoming exams. They had done so before, therefore there would be no logical explanation to _not_ want to share their burden and exchange summaries and notes.

Let’s rephrase that: It was a _terrible_ idea.

Doyoung flinched when a foot accidentally touched his under the table, internally cursing when his heart skipped a beat. Kun even had the audacity to breathe out a laugh.

He glanced up from his book. Even the prominent dark circles under his eyes didn’t diminish the other’s beauty. It was weird; Doyoung had never been someone to be focused on looks and Kun’s weren’t the reason for falling for him either. It was just… The Chinese man seemed to get more attractive, the more he got to know him. There was something captivating about him as a whole - something that pulled him in and refused to let him go

“Argh I don’t think I can do this,” Kun suddenly announced, pulling his hair. “I have zero ideas what the professor is asking of us.”

Whenever Kun got frustrated, his Chinese accent would become more noticeable. Doyoung felt like a fool for paying attention to pointless stuff like that. On the other hand, he had also noticed that Yuta’s Japanese accent was slightly more audible when he was really excited.

Doyoung yawned. “Just study whatever’s in the book and your notes. You’re usually good at making summaries, so you’ll do just fine. Have a little faith.”

“Perhaps…” Kun bit his lip.

“Hey, Doyoung?”

The change of his friend’s voice caught Doyoung’s attention. He nodded for Kun to go on.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had Hanahaki? I- I know we’re maybe not as close as you are with Taeyong, but I thought we… You know… Could tell each other about important matters like this.”

Doyoung gaped at him. The statement that contained a hidden question left him flustered. How in the world should he answer to that? Nervously he fiddled with a page of his study book, not looking at Kun when he started to speak.

“I just didn’t want too many people to know about it. It’s embarrassing, you know…” It was an awful excuse, he was aware of that.

“I get that. I just- You know you can always tell me anything, right? I’m your friend.” A supportive expression crossed Kun’s face. It warmed Doyoung’s core, yet it hurt him. He hated that he was making Kun feel like a terrible friend by secretly being in love with him.

Doyoung nodded. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. You’re very important to me, please believe that.”

Kun smiled at him. “Of course. You too.”

_But not important in the way I want to be._

Kun stretched out his hands towards him and held them open. Doyoung eyed them questioningly. When he realized the other’s intentions, he gave the other a pointed look, along with a shake of his head.

“No, Kun, we’re not going to hold hands.”

Kun urged on. “Don’t be homophobic. Take my hands. Now.”

Somehow a laugh bubbled up in Doyoung’s throat at the demanding tone. With a roll of his eyes, he did as he was told. Kun’s hands were warm and smooth. Manly, yet delicate. A rush of warmth went through him when Kun wrapped his fingers around his properly.

“I’m worried about you. You’ve been sick a lot the last days and you look tired. If there’s anything you need or want, tell me and I’ll get it. I’m aware I can be tactless sometimes, but I hope you can trust me.”

An ask for trust. Doyoung remembered Yuta doing the same. Did he have trust issues?

Kun continued. “You don’t have to tell me who you’re in love with, but I can tell you they’re missing out on someone great.”

Doyoung shot him a fakish smile. Kun obviously meant well, but each comment made the dent in the ice turn into full, elongated cracks, slowly destroying the whole frozen surface, ready to drown him.

Because this side of him was one of the reasons why Doyoung had fallen for him in the first place. It was cruel.

“When is your surgery?” Kun then asked.

Just when Doyoung wanted to answer, his phone rang, the sounds loud and disturbing the moment they had. He shot Kun an apologetic look, before hurrying to his bedroom to pick up.

“Taeyong, why are you calling?” He immediately whispered when he had safely closed the door behind him.

_“What are you thinking?! Ten told me Kun went to your place to study. Is that true?!”_

Doyoung sighed irritably. “Yes. He’s here. But in my defense, I could hardly say no.”

 _“That’s exactly what you should have done! Are you taking this Hanahaki business even seriously? Because it certainly doesn’t feel like that. You’re playing with your life!”_ Taeyong genuinely sounded angry, and that was not something you encountered every day.

“I- This might be the last time, Hyung,” Doyoung sat down on the bed, refusing to let the different emotions get to him. He knew that what he was doing was stupid. Dangerous even. But somewhere there was still some doubt that Yuta’s method wouldn’t work. In that case, he would have to undergo surgery and forget about Kun. This could be one of the last chances to be with him.

 _“Listen to me,”_ Taeyong spoke sternly, but with conviction. _“I know this is hard, but think about yourself and your health for once. After tomorrow, no more studying with Kun. Please. I hate to see you suffer.”_

Doyoung nodded, despite being aware that his friend couldn’t see it. “I promise. Just… Just give me today.” He knew he must sound like a lunatic in love. Grimly, he realized that maybe that was exactly what he was.

As he and Taeyong finished their call and Doyoung returned to the living room, where Kun was fast asleep on top of his still opened book, Doyoung thought that maybe there was a small chance that being with Kun like this, was a valuable part of his progress too.

 

* * *

 

“You’re an idiot.”

Doyoung pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled loudly. It was the second time in a short period to be called that. “Just tell me what flower it is.” He scorned the hoarse sound of his own voice.

“Do you think your idiot brain is even capable of processing it?”

“What kind of insult is _that?_ “

“The kind of insult that’s perfectly suitable for someone who is throwing up a new type of flowers, while we just got rid of one I might add, just because the love of his life showed him some puppy eyes.”

Doyoung couldn’t really go against that since it wasn’t exactly untrue. Yuta genuinely sounded pissed. Doyoung understood why; the doctor had spent a lot of time and effort in research for his case and Doyoung’s worsening condition wasn’t exactly welcome.

“I’m sorry, okay? Can we please move on?”

Yuta’s eyes contained a playful glint. He studied his nails in a disinterested way. “Hm, I don’t know? Maybe if you admit you’re a stupid bunny. I want to hear the words coming from your mouth.”

“A bunny-?” Doyoung sputtered. “Where did that come from?”

Yuta shrugged. “Well, you know, your teeth are kinda-”

Doyoung groaned in his hands, bending over so that his face was resting on his legs. “I don’t even want to hear it. Ten calls me that as well.”

“I’m not hearing anything,” Yuta sang-song.

Doyoung was sure his ears were turning red at the ridiculous request.

“I’m a- Do I really have to? Am I not suffering enough?”

Yuta kept quiet and his eyes stayed glued to his own hands. The bastard.

“I’m a stupid bunny…” Doyoung murmured embarrassedly. Yuta immediately lit up and clapped his hands in glee.

“Yes,” he said between chuckles. “Yes, you are.”

Doyoung studied the laughing Yuta; it seemed to take years away from his age, smile bright and almost blinding. Doyoung couldn’t help but be taken aback by the perfect white rows of teeth. He had always detested his own laugh since the gums tended to show up, which he considered quite unappealing. However, Yuta had objectively a gorgeous smile that really highlighted his handsome features. It brought a smile to his own face as well.

“Is it a Lily?” Doyoung interrupted eventually, turning the mood serious again.

Yuta nodded casually. "Yes. More specific, Lily of the Valley.” He shook his head. “You really have some special flowers. Marigold, Bluebell, now _this._ Only the Daisies are schoolbook Hanahaki Disease.” It was ludicrous, but Doyoung somehow took pride in that fact. He hated being standard.

“It symbolizes the bringer of happiness,” Yuta continued. “Which I’m sure Kun is for you in stressful periods.”

A nod from Doyoung confirmed it.

A short silence fell. Doyoung could practically see the gears in the Doctor’s head turning while he thought. For a moment, he noticed Yuta’s eyes locking on the silver box on one of the bookshelves. Again, Doyoung’s curiosity was piqued. He wondered what it could contain to make Yuta lose focus so now and then.

Yuta, however, was a professional and was quick to refocus on the issue at hand. “The only solution is to stop seeing Kun for now. Minimize your contact and try to connect more with Taeyong or someone else.”

He didn’t know why, but for some reason, Doyoung felt like Yuta meant himself with that someone else - whether he was aware of that, he didn’t know.

Doyoung shortly wondered how his relationship with the Doctor had grown into something more than just a regular therapist-patient one. In a strange way, they clicked, sharing a certain reservation, and temptation to help others. Their interests varied, yet their conversations were never dull, their intelligence and beliefs connecting on a deeper level.

Doyoung coughed once; a dozen of Lily petals fell into his palms. He threw them in the trash bin next to his seat and took a gulp from his tea to wash away the terrible flavor it left behind. As if nothing had happened, he started talking.

“Kun brings me happiness in a simple way. He’s there for me, tries to understand me. He’s selfless. He brings me happiness in the way he loves. There’s something so innocent yet mature about his personality, that being around him has become one of the few times I feel genuinely happy.”

Yuta looked at him with an expression Doyoung couldn’t quite place. He quickly replaced it with a gentle smile.

“I’m not used to you sharing your feelings like that,” he told him. “It’s lovely, the way you talk about him. You’ve really let Kun into your heart.” Yuta slid his finger over the Lily of the Valley petals stuck on the lined paper of Doyoung’s Flower Journal.

“It’s time to let other people in too. Don’t invest all these feelings of belonging in Kun. I think that if you can find someone who returns your love, to whom you can open your heart, you can become very happy. This - sorry if it sounds harsh - this fake sense of happiness... It’s not worth it, Doyoung. It might not seem that way, but the bringer of your happiness.” Yuta poked the younger’s chest. “It’s something you can have control over. Who that is, is your decision only.”

 

* * *

 

Two days later, without having spoken a word with Kun, Doyoung stopped coughing up the Lilies.

Kun was no longer _t_ _he_ bringer of happiness, just simply _one_ of them. That was enough.

The Daisies and Marigolds were the only flowers left.

 

* * *

 

Days passed and when Doyoung coughed up the first _full_ Marigolds, he knew he had entered stage four.

Yuta and he talked and talked. They texted too, tried to do _anything,_  but nothing seemed to stop the Daisies, representing the innocence of a child, and the Marigolds, with its dual meaning, from growing in his heart.

It was tiring, for both of them. Yuta took up some free days from the clinic and Doyoung had skipped his first exam with a lot of tears and comforting words from Taeyong and the older Doctor. He was too afraid to speak to Kun, even though he wanted nothing more than to see him.

 

* * *

 

“I’m going to make us some tea then. You know it. Make yourself at home.”

Doyoung nodded wordlessly and watched the doctor leave the room. With a sigh, he decided to use that time to lean back in the couch and close his eyes.

Slowly but surely Doyoung was losing hope. In six days he was scheduled for surgery. So, even if he and Yuta decided to reschedule the therapy sessions to once a day - which would be _very_ exhausting mentally - he still had only five days left to convince his body that his unrequited love was resolved.

It didn’t help that Kun didn’t know it was _him_ Doyoung was in love with and that he kept checking up on him, making sure whether he was feeling well. He never texted back though, which made him feel worse.

It was frustrating and caused him restless nights. He was tired. Tired of those stupid flowers, growing in quantity with every coughing fit. Tired of talking about his feelings and his feelings _alone._

Yuta was still so mysterious. He never told anything about himself - besides some trivial things -, despite the two of them having grown quite close over the weeks, caused by spending so much time together. It irked him a little if he was being honest. He somewhat disliked the doctor, yet felt fascinated by him - not that he would _ever_ admit that to the other.

However, he was losing faith in this way of curing Hanahaki, in himself and in Yuta. After all, the other had given him hope with promises he didn’t seem to be able to fulfill.

Doyoung opened his eyes again and lazily scanned the room. It didn’t take long for them to fall on the familiar silver box, lying between the books. As always he couldn’t shake off the feeling that it contained something special. He was getting beyond curious.

Doyoung drummed his fingers on the armrest of the couch.

What if he just…?

He blamed it on his human curiosity and his current distrust in Yuta, but lured in by it, Doyoung raised from his seat and stepped towards the bookshelf. His eyes quickly darted to the door, in case Yuta was coming back, before examining the box again. He let his fingers slide over the top. It was really pretty.

Once again Doyoung looked at the door. He felt like he was invading Yuta’s privacy, but on the other hand… the other had told him to make himself at home, right? And he had to open up completely to the doctor as well, so what damage could it do to expect a little something in return?

Gently, Doyoung unclipped the lid of the case and pushed it up, revealing a small black notebook. He took it out of the box and curiously, but carefully, opened it where the gap between the pages was a little thicker.

There was a photograph of an obviously younger Yuta with his arm around another boy’s shoulders. A dried small flower, that was now a greyish dark purple, laid on top of the picture.

Doyoung took the picture between his fingers and turned it around to check for an indication of when it was taken. However, on the backside of the picture was no date, but instead some scribbling in hangul. The handwriting was neat.

_‘Even though you have forgotten me, I will never forget you.’_

_“_ What are you doing?”

In shock Doyoung whipped around, almost dropping the photograph in the process. Yuta squinted at him from his position at the doorpost. In his hands were two mugs with steaming hot tea. He immediately put those down on the table and speeded towards Doyoung, ripping the picture from his fingers and putting it back in the silver box before closing the lid rather violently.

“You had no right to see that,” The doctor told him coldly without facing him.

Doyoung flushed in embarrassment, not quite knowing how to react. “I didn’t mean to-“

Yuta turned to him. “You didn’t mean to invade my privacy? So you opened the jewelry box and the diary _accidentally_?” He gave him another filthy look and passed Doyoung, shoulder bumping his on purpose while doing so.

_Diary._

Doyoung crossed his arms and spun around. “Why are you keeping someone else’s diary? Isn’t that invading someone’s privacy as well?”

At first, Doyoung had felt guilty for snooping around, but something about Yuta’s secretive and defensive attitude irked him. Something about the doctor irked him in general.

“It’s none of your business,” Yuta answered, trying to sound emotionless. He placed his hands on his hips and faced away. “I think we’re done for today. I want you to leave.”

Simply said: it angered Doyoung. He had told Yuta all his deepest secrets and thoughts because the other expected full openness of him. But how could he lay his life in the hands of Yuta when he never shared anything about himself? He was a therapist and Doyoung knew it was his job not to get emotionally involved and to keep a professional distance. However, he also believed that his case was different from the usual ones, especially because of the way they were around each other. It wasn't fair of Yuta to use their friendly relationship only when it was to _his_ advantage. It was hypocritical

Plus, Doyoung was dying. He couldn’t just blindly follow everything Yuta told him and trust him blindly, without expecting a little something in return. It left a dent in his pride after treating Yuta much the same as a friend

“You were the one that told me we had to be open towards each other. You _explicitly_ said it in a way that included _both_ of us. But I know nothing about you!” The more Doyoung voiced his thoughts, the more it spurred on his own anger and frustration. “For all I know you could be a radical, pretending to be a doctor and using me as your experiment. I'm trying everything to trust you, which is already hard for me, but just when I think I finally can, you always distance yourself or cut off our sessions. Don't forget I’m putting my goddamn life in your hands here.”

The silence was heavy after his outburst. Yuta had his lips pressed together in a tight line.

Doyoung acknowledged that maybe he had gone a little too far by opening something personal without asking, but-

“What do you want to know?”

Yuta's sudden relinquishing, with a thin voice, honestly perplexed Doyoung; he had thought the other would put up more of a fight. However, the doctor’s initial anger had dissipated and in return, Doyoung felt himself calm down too.

What _did_ he want to know?

“Whose diary do you keep in that box? Is it the person from the picture?” Doyoung asked eventually.

Yuta let out a deep sigh and gestured for Doyoung to sit down on the couch. Only once the Korean man sat next to him, he started talking.

“The diary is from an old… Friend of mine.” The way Yuta said the word ‘friend’ sounded a bit off. He didn’t know what to make of it.

Yuta resumed talking while wrapping his hands around his mug. “And yes, the other guy in the picture is the owner of the diary. His name is Hansol. I met him at university while studying medicine. He was my best friend.”

The past tense caught Doyoung’s attention. “What happened?”

Yuta looked at him shortly. “He suffered from Hanahaki Disease.”

What?

Doyoung was speechless for a moment. Yuta took his silence as an indicator to continue.

“He had fallen in love with me, without my knowledge. The stupid thing was that he _told_ me that he had the disease. I _knew_ he was coughing up flowers. I even went to the hospital with him.” Yuta laughed humorlessly. “I held his hand right before he underwent surgery. That’s when he decided to tell me. I was _so_ angry, god, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“I think I can imagine,” Doyoung muttered softly. He locked eyes with Yuta then and held his gaze for a moment.

“I wasn’t _in_ love with Hansol, but I did love him.” Yuta appeared regretful. “He was my family; the person I went to when I missed home and felt safe with. He would even talk basic Japanese with me to comfort me. I didn’t want to lose him. In those five minutes before he was supposed to be put under narcosis, I cried and screamed and begged every god I knew to make me fall in love with my best friend just so that I wouldn’t lose him.”

Yuta was becoming more and more emotional while speaking about his past and Doyoung’s heart clenched painfully for the other man, almost tearing up himself. He had never really thought much about the other party in the unrequited love. For all he knew, he was the one suffering the most. But seeing it from Yuta’s point of view; hearing about how Yuta lost one of the most important people in his life in such a cruel way…

It hurt.

Was this how Kun would feel? Maybe they weren’t as close as Yuta was with this Hansol, but they _were_ friends. What if it was Taeyong who was in love with _him_ and _he_ had to watch the red-haired man live on without remembering the person he had spent most of his life with? It felt unbearable.

When he watched Yuta, Doyoung could see him struggling to hold back his tears. He felt bad for forcing him to remind him of what happened.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Doyoung told him genuinely.

Yuta nodded, blinking rapidly. “Thank you. I don't talk about it much.”

Knowing this explained a lot about Yuta and how he acted. Doyoung felt like comforting the other. He also felt like Yuta wanted him to comfort him.

Being tired always caused a drunk-like effect. It made Doyoung bolder and do things without being too mindful about them. And so he listened to his heart for once, instead of using his head.

“It might sound crazy,” he started. “But I’m glad you told me. I _do_ trust you and I think I-“ Doyoung hesitated. He didn’t know if it was weird to admit something like this to a surgeon, or worse: his therapist.

Yuta eyed him questioningly with his head cocked to the side and eyes puppylike. It gave Doyoung the courage he needed.

“I think I see you as a new friend. So,” he cleared his throat, swallowing down a single petal. “This whole Hanahaki ordeal has given me something positive in return too.”

Doyoung wanted the floor to swallow him whole when he received no response whatsoever. That was, until Yuta let out an unexpected stuttering breath and he felt fingers brush against his hand - in surprise, he almost jerked it away.

“I’m really relieved to hear that,” Yuta told him. “And don’t worry. If I didn’t feel the same way, I wouldn’t have shared this story.”

Yuta’s hand stayed in place. Doyoung had no idea what to do with it, but he found himself not minding the contact, even finding comfort in it himself. He felt reassured. Yuta was a peculiar type, but he was not such a bad company, even though he detested the therapy sessions.

“Can you just…” Yuta requested, stripped of certainty - that was quite uncharacteristic. Doyoung didn’t get what he meant, until the hand against his shifted more on top of his own.

Doyoung swallowed, feeling a little flustered, but hummed, opening his fingers so that Yuta could put his in between. It was a strange moment, silence filling the room while the two men on the couch held each other’s hands in some sort of comforting gesture.

“So that is why you wanted to set up this project,” Doyoung realized. “Because you don’t want Hanahaki Disease to tear up friendships.”

Yuta nodded and looked at him with a fond smile. “Surgery doesn’t feel like _the_ solution. It takes away the physical problem, yes. But in a way, however stupid this may sound, it’s the easy way out and ignores the actual problem. I want to solve _that_ problem. Everyone’s feelings are valid, not only the one suffering from Hanahaki.”

Doyoung hummed again.

Well…

This conversation was quite the eye-opener.

“Sorry I ruined our session of today,” Yuta apologized sheepishly.

But Doyoung shook his head. He squeezed Yuta’s hand.

“It’s quite the opposite. I think today’s conversation has taught me some very important things that I need to consider. It was very helpful.”

Yuta chuckled. “You’re weird.” A pause. “But I’m glad.”

For the first time in a while, Doyoung felt like he was close to a breakthrough in relation to his feelings. His mind was spinning. The first thing he was going to do once he’d got home would be laying down to process everything Yuta had told him. He could do this.

Yuta smiled at him. He smiled back.

They could do this.

 

* * *

 

This time around, Doyoung had invited Yuta to _his_ home. He wanted to hold his options open to study in between the session since he had another exam in a few days.

That, plus, his condition left him too weak to travel to another place.

It had something comical, seeing his therapist in an ordinary black tee and dark blue skinny jeans, sitting cross-legged on the ground with a mug of coffee in his hands. His round glasses were replaced by lenses.

He had thought about yesterday quite a lot and had spent the whole night processing every piece of information from the past three weeks.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you. Or rather… There’s something I haven’t told you,” Doyoung admitted. His nerves were eating away at his confidence. Yuta narrowed his eyes at him and nodded, indicating for Doyoung to _please_ continue.

“I-” Doyoung coughed a few times, his already aching throat making way for another set of Marigolds. He wiped his mouth. “I dated Kun’s current boyfriend, Ten, for a few weeks in freshman year of university. I didn’t think it was worth mentioning, but now that Ten keeps texting me, demanding me to tell how I’m doing - he’s really showing his worries - I can’t help but feel _nice_ about it. A particular kind of nice.”

Yuta had his lips pressed in a tight line. “Who broke it off back then? What were your feelings about it?”

Doyoung didn’t want to meet eyes with the Doctor. “He was the one who dumped _me._ ” He loathed how bitter that statement came out of his mouth. “I was really hurt by it. Never showed it of course, but I genuinely liked him.”

A deep sigh escaped Yuta’s mouth. The 26-year-old dragged his hands over his face. His hair looked unkempt and his eye bags were visibly present.

“You- God, I want to strangle you,” he gritted out eventually. “So you dated Ten? Wow that’s- you’re such an idiot.”

“I didn’t want to admit it,” Doyoung retorted.

Yuta sat up straighter. “So let me get this straight. When Ten broke up with you, you were still in love with him. And when Ten moved on from you, you developed a certain bitterness - a cold type of feeling - for him?” Doyoung gulped and nodded.

“You became jealous of Kun first, then became jealous of Ten, which resulted in your jealousy of them as a couple.”

Doyoung blamed the tiredness, but the harsh reality of Yuta’s words unleashed years of cropped up emotions that he never dared to admit. He cursed out loud and started rubbing his eyes furiously when he felt himself tear up.

“It’s okay, Doyoung. It’s okay to cry.”

“No! It’s not!” Doyoung’s voice cracked. “I shouldn’t be jealous of my friends! I shouldn’t have feelings for more people. What am I? A fucking creep?!” His hands became blurry in front of him. He didn’t even notice Yuta sitting next to him until there was an arm around his shoulders.

“Stop that. It’s completely normal to harbor different feelings for different people. To be fair, I don’t think you’re still in love with Ten. I just think that when Kun, who you were in love with, started dating Ten, it triggered feelings from the past. It made you realize that you have never been over Ten, to begin with. It’s unrequited love from the past and jealousy in the present.” Yuta took hold of both his shoulders. His smile was so warm and bright suddenly that Doyoung couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Do you know what that means?” The Doctor asked. Doyoung shook his head silently. “It means that we figured out where the Marigolds are coming from. We can do this. We can cure you. I’m sure of it.”

Doyoung suddenly laughed, while rubbing away the wetness that had yet to fall. The realization of what Yuta said hit him like a truck - an ambiance of relief overtook the room.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.” He was genuinely apologetic.

Yuta shushed at him, cupping his cheeks shortly, before backing away completely.

“I’m just happy that you trusted me.” It almost looked like Yuta’s brown orbs were shining with wetness. “I’m happy that you came into terms with your feelings.”

-

“No way.”

“You have to do it.”

“No. No, I can’t.”

“Do you want to die? No? Exactly what I thought.”

Doyoung couldn’t believe this was happening. When Yuta had told him what the next, and last, step of the therapy would be, he’d had a spontaneous Hanahaki attack: throwing up flower after flower, the specks of blood more prominent than ever, as well as the pain.

Apparently, he had to confess his love to Kun and Ten. But not just that. No, he had to give them a bouquet with the flowers that represented his feelings for them. Yuta said he had followed a flower arranging class because it was part of his specialization course, and so he would make the bouquets for him.

The prospect of executing that plan scared Doyoung more than anything. At the moment he was sure he’d rather have them perform surgery on him than _this_. Panic, dread, doubt, shame - all of them were present and messing with his head.

“I can imagine how scary it must be,” Yuta told him. “But-”

A deep breath.

“I’ll do it,” Doyoung announced then, voice shaky. He was surprised by his own conviction. However, Yuta’s story about Hansol had made things clear for him: He never wanted to put someone through the same hell that Yuta had gone through. It would haunt them forever. And Kun, lovely Kun, would certainly partly blame himself for it. Doyoung couldn’t let that happen. If it meant that their friendship would never be the same again then so be it.

When Doyoung looked at his friend, the Doctor’s eyes suggested surprise. He walked over to him and hugged him shortly. Doyoung only now noticed that Yuta was a little shorter than he was, which was rather endearing. The hug left a warm, pleasant sensation behind in his body.

“Thank you,” Yuta told him. “I’m proud of you.”

To hear those words from a man he held in such high regard and who he knew was sparse with compliments, made a smile grow on his face. His confidence returned for a moment as if he could see the sun again, after the seemingly limitless clouds, that had hidden her for so long, finally dispersed.

 

* * *

 

Doyoung froze in his spot when Kun opened the door of his shared apartment. The Chinese man seemed surprised to see him, which Doyoung could understand since he never really visited him before - mainly caused by Kun’s roommate Sicheng, who was always present.

“Doyoung? What a nice surprise! Do you want to come in or?”

Kun looked so cheerful… so unaware of everything…

“I-” Doyoung stammered. He had practiced what to say in the mirror for hours, but the words wouldn’t come out. His mind was a blank page. Kun’s expression turned into worry then.

“Shouldn’t you be resting at home?”

“Can you please.” Doyoung’s voice was so hoarse that the words were barely audible. He coughed once. A Daisy fell to the pavement.

“Can you please let me speak for a moment? D-don’t say anything, just- Just please let me finish speaking.”

Kun nodded, confusion unmistakably written all over his face.

Doyoung breathed in and out, unconsciously hearing Yuta’s voice, that told him things would be okay. To just keep breathing.

Finally, he took the small bouquet of flowers from his back. He didn’t look at his unrequited love, just at the flowers.

“You’re the one I’m in love with.”

A foot took a shocked step backward. Doyoung could imagine it; Kun’s widened eyes, searching for an answer. Mouth dropped open, ready to say _something._ But Doyoung was faster.

“Bluebells. They made me sick, since they’re poisonous. They stand for thankfulness and constancy. I will always be thankful f-for your friendship and how you made my life better by being in it.” He gulped, hoping that Kun would still be listening. His heart was almost pounding out of his chest.

“Lily of the Valley. It’s very rare. Special, like you…” Another coughing fit. He gathered himself as quickly as he could. “They embody the bringing of happiness. When things got hard, I relied on my feelings for you. You bring me happiness.”

“Doyoungie…” Kun whispered, but Doyoung shook his head stubbornly, refusing to meet the other’s eyes and refusing to let him speak.

“Daisies. They represent the innocence of a child. A fresh love. I haven’t figured out exactly what it means, but I know my love for you is innocent. I admire you for who you are.”

There were a hundred more things to say, to complement the other on. But he just couldn't say more - a blackout had covered the expanse of his cognition like someone just had pulled out his plug.

And so, he just closed his eyes tightly and lifted the bouquet a little higher. “Please take it.”

Hands slowly came into his sight and took hold of the bouquet, brushing Doyoung’s fingers in the process.

“Thank you for listening,” Doyoung whispered. He pushed the flowers firmer in Kun’s hands then and let go, instantly turning around to walk away. At this point, he was solely running on adrenaline. He needed to get away.

He didn’t get far; a hand around his wrist stopped him.

“You-“

Shocked by the obvious waver in the other man’s voice, Doyoung finally faced Kun.

The tears running down his face were not something he had expected. Doyoung started to panic. He didn’t want him to cry because of him. He felt disgusted with himself that he thought Kun looked striking, even when crying.

“D-don’t leave just like that.” Kun tugged a little on Doyoung’s arm. “You can’t just hold that speech and then expect me to say nothing.”

“You don’t _have_ to say anything,” Doyoung finally said, softly, as nicely as he could. “I know you’re dating Ten and that this is weird and-”

“Why would you be in love with _me_? I- I’m no one special.” There was desperation. Doyoung knew he was trying to make sense of the situation.

Doyoung smiled at him, albeit sadly. “You are more special than you think. I believe Ten would agree with me.”

Another tear escaped Kun’s eye. “I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t know, I-”

“You didn’t hurt me. You are probably the only person I know that has never hurt me before.”

A sudden spark of fear crossed Kun’s features. He grabbed both of Doyoung’s biceps.

“The surgery. Do you have to…?”

Doyoung had to hold himself together to not break out in tears at Kun’s genuine concern. He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “If the therapy works then no, but… if it doesn’t work then I have to.”

“But you will forget about me,” Kun was shaking his head in denial, more tears falling, brows furrowed, which almost made it look like he was angry. Doyoung knew he was not.

“I’m sorry,” Doyoung said, trying to console Kun, by pulling him closer and stroking his hair. He was almost afraid the other would pull back, but he didn’t and clutched his jacket.

“I know I’m selfish, but I don’t want to lose you.”

“Me neither. Believe me, me neither.”

They held each other for an uncertain amount of time. Was it minutes or seconds?

Was this how love matured, Doyoung wondered? Love seemed so innocent; beautiful, kind, soft. Not painful, harsh, evil, cruel… His love for Kun had started out simple, like puppy love, with enough distance to not be hurt, but through Hanahaki it had become the love he had seen in melodramatic k-dramas, with ostensibly no happy ending.

Doyoung drew back quickly when his throat itched. He coughed a few times, not aware of Kun’s sad expression directed at him.

To the ground fell three Marigolds.

There were no Daisies in sight.

 

* * *

 

Standing in front of the building where Ten’s apartment was situated, with a bouquet of Marigolds and an envelope, was maybe the most nerve-wracking experience Doyoung had ever had in his twenty-two years of living. He had thought that confessing to Kun would be the most intimidating, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore.

He didn’t know how to face him. How to talk to him. What to say.

If Ten would laugh at him, he was sure he was never going to heal properly from Hanahaki. And there was a real chance of that happening. Because hadn’t they always been like that? Teasing, pushing and pulling, laughing _at_ and _with_ each other.

A wild dynamic, but, like how riding a roller coaster was wild, yet satisfying, Doyoung concluded that Ten’s and his was one of the most pleasant dynamics he had in his life as well.

Smiling to himself, Doyoung laid down the Marigolds in front of the door, the envelope with his letter secured beneath the stems. He breathed in and rang the doorbell, before languidly walking away - the Thai man lived on the fourth floor, so it would take a while before he arrived downstairs.

As he rounded the corner, he felt disappointed that he couldn’t do it, yet proud that he had come to terms with his own feelings and had acted on them.

-

_Dear Ten,_

_It’s weird to write you a letter like this, but I can’t face you. You must be wondering why I’m giving you flowers all of a sudden. Well, the truth is that I’m not sure. My therapist said that this would be my only chance of healing. And maybe I trust him on that._

_All this time I thought I hated you. You were dating the person that I consider(ed?) the love of my life and whenever your name came up I felt bitterness. However, I found out that the truth is a little different from that._

_Remember when we used to be together? We were friends and suddenly we were a thing. And believe it or not, but those three weeks have never left my thoughts. I was hopelessly in love with you. You were my first love. And that’s why I can’t face you. Call me a coward all you want, but the mere thought of admitting that, is so embarrassing, that I don’t know if I can ever face you again after this. If there will be an ‘again’._

_I suffer from Hanahaki Disease. I thought it was because of my love for Kun, who’s obviously head over heels for you. And it partly is. However, it’s more complex. I couldn’t place the feelings that go hand in hand with the Marigolds I coughed up. And then, after pondering over it for weeks, I realized._

_It was you._

_It has been you all along._

_Before I knew it, you had broken up with me. But I wasn’t ready. I never told you that, and for that I’m sorry. Since then I hated you, but it wasn’t real hate. It was pain, bitterness. I felt like I wasn’t enough for you at that time and that you didn’t love me the way I loved you. I figured out that I never really moved on from that._

_You dating Kun was the final trigger for Hanahaki to settle into my body. Jealousy is such an ugly feeling. It’s not your fault in the slightest though. It’s mine. I couldn’t come to terms with my feelings and for that, I’m paying the price._

_I don’t want to undergo surgery. I don’t want to lose Kun. I don’t want to lose my memories of you. Believe it or not, despite how I act towards you, I always considered you to be unmissable in my life._

_My therapist told me to give the person that is associated with the flowers I cough up a real bouquet. So here I am, giving you flowers, in the hope that I can move on from you. In the hope that you can forgive me._

_If this doesn’t work then… then that means I won’t see you again. Don’t feel bad for me, Chittaphon. I genuinely want you to be happy._

_Love,_

_Dongyoung._

 

* * *

 

“I failed you. “

Doyoung looked at the tired face of Yuta. He was looking at the ground, shoulders tensed up and obviously upset. He had never seen the other so distraught as now.

“You didn't. I believed it would work too,” Doyoung answered softly before another coughing fit tormented his body. The pain in his throat was nearly unbearable and with teary eyes, he quickly reached for the bucket next to him and let the full flowers fall into it. The nurse had given it to him to avoid making a mess.

He was undergoing surgery.

Apparently, the letter, his confession to Kun and his bouquets hadn't resolved his feelings.

Would it be a few weeks ago, then he'd surely be angry at Yuta for making him believe he could heal without surgery. But now he couldn't. Yuta wasn't a fraud - he was too invested in his case for that. He genuinely believed in his ways and Doyoung couldn't help but believe in it too, even if it hadn't worked out for him.

“Are _you_ going to perform the surgery?” Doyoung asked in an attempt to change to subject. His voice came out in a whisper due to his restricted airways.

The question only seemed to sadden Yuta more.

He shook his head. “They won't let me.” He laughed bitterly. “They put me under investigation for questionable methods and causing my patient to almost die. which I don’t blame them for since you’re here.”

Doyoung didn't know what he was hearing.

“B-but I consented to it! They can't-”

A nurse came inside and interrupted their conversation.

“Doctor Nakamoto, I have to ask you to leave. The patient will be put under narcosis soon.”

Yuta nodded. “I'll be out in five.” The nurse seemed to accept the request and silently left the room again, the door closing behind her with a soft thud.

“Yuta, they can't do this to you. Your work is your everything.”

Doyoung didn't know _why_ he was so upset by the news, but he was. He felt like it was partly his fault too. If he had just admitted to himself what he felt, then maybe all of this wouldn’t have happened in the first place.

Yuta suddenly reached out and laid a hand against his cheek. It was a gentle gesture full of affection. Doyoung blinked, feeling both pain and warmth spread in his chest. The look in the doctor's eyes was unreadable.

“They say I led you to believe something that is not possible,” Yuta continued. “And maybe they're right. I went too far. I brought your life in danger.”

But Doyoung wouldn't have it and shook his head. “No. You-”

“Doyoung.” The way the surgeon said his name was tender and he almost teared up. “Even though I'll probably get fired because of this. I don't regret it. I wished we had more time. Thank you for trusting me, even though I did nothing to earn your trust. After surgery…” He seemed to hesitate. “Let's not meet again okay? Just focus on healing. Try to live your life and fall in love with someone who'll return it.”

Doyoung felt a thumb caress the spot under his eye. His gut felt wrenched and this time Hanahaki wasn't the cause of it. In such a short time Yuta had become an important person in his life. How could he suddenly request to not see him again?

“Is that what you really want?” Doyoung asked him seriously. Was he really going to lose a third person because of this cursed disease?

For a moment Yuta just opened his mouth without any words passing his lips. It was quite unlike him since the surgeon always had a brash comment or answer ready. Doyoung could see him hesitating, could see he was hurting too.

“No,” Yuta answered softly. “It’s far from what I want, but it’s for the best. Think about it. My presence will always be linked with surgery and Hanahaki for you. You need to move on from all if this. With me in your life… Even if you want it, I have the responsibility as your doctor to step away and prioritize _you_.” There was a tremor in his voice as he said the last words. “I’m sorry, Doyoung.”

He hated it.

Doyoung hated how much sense Yuta was making. Would he be able to move on from all of this with Yuta there to remind him of everything? Probably not. However, the thought of losing Yuta as well made him feel hopeless.

“I-I understand.”

Suddenly the door was opened and the nurse was back. “Doctor Nakamoto, you really need to leave right now or we won’t be on schedule.”

Yuta smiled, although it was anything but a happy one; the smile Doyoung saw on his face whenever they seemed to have a breakthrough. The smile that was for a part healing, but not healing enough. A smile he would never forget.

“Y-yes. I’ll be taking my leave now.”

The doctor, his _friend_ , was walking away from him. Without thinking about it much Doyoung sat upright and grabbed Yuta’s wrist. The latter’s eyes widened. The first instinct was to tell him not to leave him. To tell him he didn’t have to be alone. That they would figure something out. Instead, he didn’t say any of those things.

“Thank you,” Doyoung muttered. “Thank you for trying.”

Yuta smiled a little more genuinely now, eyes shining with wetness. He nodded firmly.

“Anytime.”

Silence.

Gently Yuta took back his hand.

“Farewell, Dongyoung.”

And like that, he turned around and left. Feeling numb, Doyoung let himself rest against the headboard of the hospital bed. Maybe in another universe where he wasn’t tormented by unrequited love and Hanahaki, Doyoung would have liked to figure out his exact feelings for Yuta. It frustrated him that he would never find out.

A minute passed in which Doyoung was slowly letting himself fall asleep. Maybe that way it would all be over soon.

Suddenly the door was slammed open, startling Doyoung awake again.

“Sir! Sir, you can’t go inside!” A nurse yelled.

Doyoung looked at up at the place of the commotion, maybe expecting it to be Yuta who had come back to tell him he couldn’t leave him after all, only to come eye to eye with a panting Ten.

Surprise quickly turned into shock; his heart dropped to his stomach and he wanted nothing more than the ground to swallow him whole. The nurse stepped inside, ready to take Ten by his arm and force him outside, but the Thai man wouldn’t have it and closed in on Doyoung with big steps.

“No. No, you can’t do this,” he started. “You can’t write that letter and then leave me.”

Ten sounded embittered, angry and surprisingly despairing. Doyoung didn’t want to meet his gaze and fisted the sheets of the hospital bed.

“Well, apparently I can,” Doyoung answered dryly. It was in bright contrast with his feelings, but he didn’t like to show his emotions, especially not to Ten. “I’m undergoing surgery in a moment, so I want to be alone right now.”

Ten was standing next to his bed and Doyoung could see he was holding himself back.

“Stop it.”

Doyoung shook his head. “What else is there to say? It’s better for everyone like this.”

“Stop lying!”

Surprised at the Thai man’s raised voice and obvious crack, Doyoung looked at his friend. His once lover. His eyes were brimming with tears.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ten started softly, taking hold of Doyoung’s hand. Doyoung immediately interlaced their fingers as if it was the most natural thing. “Back then, why didn’t you tell me you were still in love with me?” He let a pause and looked at the ceiling. “I ended things because I thought you dated me out of pity. And when we started this love/hate relationship, I was sure of it. Because you: the smart, tall, beautiful Kim Dongyoung couldn’t possibly be in love with _me._ ”

Doyoung had never seen Ten cry. Until now. Tears stained his cheeks as he returned his gaze on him. Doyoung couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

“If you had just been honest with me, we could’ve worked something out! Do you really think I forgot about our time together? Was it really love? I don’t know. But you have this nasty habit of hiding what you feel to appear perfect in everyone’s eyes and I hate it. I hate it because it’s causing you to lose two of your best friends.”

The realization that Ten still had feelings for him when he had broken up with him, hit Doyoung like a truck. All this time they could have been together.

It changed everything.

He had hated Ten for dating Kun because the younger had robbed him from two people he loved. He was bitter and however much he tried, he couldn’t be happy for Ten and the relationship he had with Kun

“I didn’t develop Hanahaki because of Kun,” Ten suddenly added. “If it wasn’t for him getting closer to me, making me laugh when I needed it and comforting me, I would have.”

Doyoung gaped at Ten. Everything the other was telling him was like a punch to the gut. Every new piece of knowledge messed up his way of thinking. Ten admitting that he would’ve suffered from the same disease Doyoung was suffering from now if it wasn’t for Kun...

That hurt.

“N-no Doyoung, don’t cry. Please.”

Doyoung moved his hand to his cheeks and felt the pads of his fingers come back wet. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried. But then he felt it. His heart was hurting, his whole body was reacting to it. Before he knew it he sat up straight and latched onto Ten, wrapping his arms around his waist and burying his head in the other’s midsection.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Doyoung whispered.

Ten carded through his hair, gently.

“Why? Shouldn’t I be the one to be sorry?” It was said with some amusement despite the seriousness of the situation.

A shake of the head. “Sorry for hating you. Sorry that I couldn’t be happy for you all this time, despite considering you a friend.”

Ten suddenly grabbed Doyoung’s face and made him look at him. His deep brown eyes were looking straight at him, determined.

“Don’t be. Seriously, don’t be. And if you really want to I can say I forgive you, but there is nothing to forgive.”

A pause.

“Dongyoung,” Desperation. Adoration. Love. “I don’t want you to forget me.”

Doyoung had never felt more fear for his upcoming surgery. He shook his head in denial, tears freshly spilling over. “I-I don’t want to forget you eith-”

The sudden pain Doyoung felt was unexplainable and cut his sentence short. His vision went white for a good second while his hands grabbed at his own hospital robe that covered his chest. His breath came out in short gasps and his mouth fell open in a silent scream.

He didn’t hear Ten yelling at him, asking him what in the world was happening. Didn’t see him running to fetch a doctor. All he could do was crawl into a ball, wishing the excruciating pain would stop.

Suddenly the smarting crept up his throat, cutting off his airways. He felt something rise and scratch his windpipe. It was so painful that tears started falling from his eyes involuntarily.

Two hands took hold of his shoulders and turned him around. Everything was hazy and there was a constant ringing in his ear.

“Doyoung, listen to me, you have to force it out.”

Someone slapped his back and Doyoung actually convulsed.

“Come on!”

Another slap. And this time Doyoung wrapped his arms around himself and threw up.

Except, what he threw up weren’t flowers. It was a green plant.

A root.

Doyoung regained his senses at that moment and the excessive pain had disappeared from his chest - only irritation in his throat remained. Deep breaths were taken and hands pushed him gently back on the bed.

Familiar fingers carded through his hair once again and like that Doyoung fell asleep; feeling like a weight had fallen from his heart and shoulders.

 

* * *

 

The crunching sounds his footsteps made in the snow was the only thing that could be heard in the soundless environment Doyoung was walking in. Night had fallen over Seoul, the moon illuminating the sky with the help of lampposts on either side of the silent road. The asphalt had been sprinkled with salt and thus cleared of ice, yet the pavements were still covered in a layer of white.

His shoes weren’t waterproof and so Doyoung was sure his socks were slowly getting soaked. But he had almost reached his destination. He just hoped the bouquet of flowers behind his back had survived the rather long walk.

The familiar house with a now white flowery porch slowly appeared into sight and the nerves in Doyoung’s abdomen spiked a little. It had been three days since the last time he had seen the Japanese surgeon. The prospect of seeing him again caused his anticipation to grow.

Doyoung quickened his pace and soon enough he had reached the front of the door of the man that had saved him. The man he was thankful for. His friend.

Taking a quick deep breath, Doyoung finally gathered his courage to knock on the door, favoring it over the doorbell considering the time.

It took at least twenty seconds before he heard some shuffling and the lock was removed. The door opened only for a small part, Yuta peaking through it with messy hair and glasses. He was obviously not expecting visitors.

“Yes?”

Doyoung felt a rush of affection flow through him at the sight and his voice. He shot him a small smile, waiting for Yuta to meet his eyes. When he did, shock was written all over his face.

“Hello, Yuta.”

The door immediately opened fully and Yuta quickly patted his hair down to look at least a little presentable. Doyoung actually couldn’t care less but found it charming, maybe even cute, either way.

“D-Doyoung? What are you doing here? I thought we-”

The Korean man instantly interrupted him. “Yeah, you thought we made the decision not to see each other again. But the circumstances have changed.” Yuta stared at him in confusion.

A full, gummy smile blossomed on his own face. “It worked Yuta. You did it.”

A crease appeared between the surgeon’s brows. He was trying to process the information Doyoung had just given him.

“What do you mean?”

Doyoung cocked his head a little to the side, unable to contain his excitement.

“Your therapy helped. I didn’t have to undergo surgery. I’ve been officially cured of Hanahaki.”

The look on Yuta’s face in the next moment was priceless. His mouth fell open, hands quick to cover it and his eyes were so wide that he almost looked like a doll. He took an unbelieving step backward.

“I-if you’re joking,” he started, pointing at him in warning. “God, I _will_ murder you.”

Doyoung shook his head, grinning. “It’s real.” Then softly he added. “I still remember Kun and Ten. It’s not gone.”

One moment there was a shocked silence, the next Yuta had thrown himself against him with an excited squeal, arms around his neck so tightly that he almost couldn’t breathe.

Doyoung wrapped his only free arm around Yuta’s frame and Yuta melted even more in the embrace. Doyoung felt the other’s shoulders shake and it made a bile rise to his own throat too.

“Are you crying?” He teased gently.

“Shut up,” Yuta simply retorted, his voice obviously thick with emotion after which he pushed himself away from Doyoung. He sniffed.

And _there_ was that million dollar smile that Doyoung had longed to see.

“Do you know what this means?” Yuta asked him excitingly. He walked back inside, going through his hair with one hand and wiping his eyes with the other. Doyoung followed him inside wordlessly and closed the door. He ridded himself from his shoes and coat while Yuta kept rambling.

“This means that I’m not going to be fired. And- And we can start a procedure to get more funds for research. We can start up more clinics to help people without losing their loved ones. We can-”

“God, you talk way too much.”

Yuta shot him an annoyed look. “Listen here. This is groundbreaking! You are the living proof that it works. That I’m not crazy.”

Doyoung rolled his eyes. “Yes. You’re right, and how much I like seeing you this happy. I came here to give you something.“

That shut Yuta up. His eyes were drawn to the small bouquet of Forget-Me-Nots that Doyoung had pulled from behind his back. They were a little wet from the snow that had fallen, but were perfectly fine besides that. Yuta eyed Doyoung and then the bouquet again, then back to Doyoung.

“Are those for _me_?”

Doyoung felt a little embarrassed all of a sudden. “You once told me they held a very special meaning to you. Yes, they are for you. I hope you know that I’m very thankful for you. And not only because you helped me. For everything.”

Yuta hesitated a moment before stepping forward and taking over the bouquet. His eyes were glued to the small purple flowers with definite intensity before a fond smile appeared on his lips.

“Thank you,” he told him breathlessly. “They’re beautiful.”

_Just like you._

Temporarily, Doyoung was shocked by the automatic thought. He quickly shrugged it off, however, and straightened himself. He was done ignoring and rejecting the way he felt. If he thought that Yuta was beautiful, then why fight it?

It took a moment for Yuta to snap back to reality. His posture was a little sheepish. Sweatpants clung to his hips and a plain oversized sweater covered his chest. Yuta was aware of that. He looked cute though, Doyoung mused, like a cat that had just woken up from his nap.

“Sorry for my presentation. I didn’t know you would-” He tried to explain with random hand gestures. “But you need to tell me everything that happened. Do you want some wine perhaps? I’m afraid I only have a cheap brand, but it’s better than nothing? ”

Doyoung smiled amusingly. “That’s quite alright with me.”

An awkward silence fell over the room; a certain tension thick in the air. Neither of them quite knew what to do. That was until Yuta resolutely stepped forward and hugged Doyoung shortly before pressing his lips against his cheek. It was a soft touch.

Doyoung felt heat rush to his face at the gesture, goosebumps rising on his arms.

“I never received flowers before. So, thank you, for giving me my first bouquet,” Yuta whispered.

A lot of thoughts went through Doyoung’s mind. He never spoke those out loud. Never felt the urge to do so as much as now. He recalled it being one of the reasons why things had gone so terribly wrong in the first place. So when Yuta wanted to turn around to head to the kitchen, Doyoung gently reached for the other’s hand, stopping him.

“Remembrance,” he began with a slight tremor in his voice, getting nervous all of a sudden. “That’s what they symbolize. You told me to forget about you, but I can’t. You said that my memory of you would be stained because of Hanahaki, but in fact, it has become the opposite. It has become my strength. A selfish part of me doesn’t want you to forget about me either. So please, Yuta, don’t forget about me.”

Slowly Yuta turned around, eyes full of wonder and admiration behind his round glasses. While staring at their touching hands, the Japanese man intertwined their fingers.

“Long-lasting connection,” Yuta suddenly murmured.

Doyoung was caught off guard.

“Huh?”

Yuta squeezed his hand. “Besides remembrance, Forget-Me-Nots represent a long-lasting connection, indicating the importance of a relationship, as lovers or friends. A connection that can’t be broken or shaken by anything.” Yuta suddenly laughed and Doyoung noticed that his eyes were glistening. “They also stand for true love and fidelity, but maybe it’s a little early for statements like that. And I don’t think that’s quite what you meant when you gave them to me.”

The words and their indication settled inside Doyoung’s stomach and warmed his whole body, spreading a gentle blaze upwards to his chest and cheeks. Almost shyly he let his forehead rest on Yuta’s shoulder.

“Flowers are actually really nice.”

A chuckle and a hum.

“They are. And Doyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I can ever forget you.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure I’m welcome? I mean, this is a little…”

Yuta looked around the big room filled with people and plucked on the black jacket of his suit. The luxurious atmosphere and the obnoxious dance music that was playing through the speakers were an odd combination, but Doyoung wasn’t surprised in the slightest; after all, this was Ten they were talking about. He knew his shorter friend didn't like flaunting with his parents' success and money - Doyoung related all too well - but apparently, this occasion was partly organized by them.  Ten had to compromise somehow and let his folks choose the venue, he guessed. 

Doyoung shot a quick look at the doctor. He was still not used to see him so styled up, with slicked back hair exposing his forehead and several pieces of jewelry adorning his neck, ears, and fingers. Yuta was especially not someone to wear makeup, yet here he was, his highlighter shining in the lights of the party setting. 

He laid a comforting hand on Yuta’s lower back, leaning towards his ear. “Kun _and_ Ten really wanted to meet you, so believe me, you’re more than welcome.” He was close to complementing the other's appearance too but decided against it last second.

Yuta sighed. “But this is his graduation party. I don’t know him. I didn’t even bring a gift.”

“I did. So don’t worry. We’ll just say it’s from the two of us.”

A month had passed since Doyoung had told Yuta about being cured of Hanahaki, and in that time they had grown _a lot_ closer. They were unsure of what exactly they were, dangling somewhere between friends and something more, maybe. But both of them thought it would be best to take it slow. Doyoung had just healed from the disease and he knew that Yuta didn’t want to be a rebound.

However, Doyoung liked Yuta.

He liked his passion for his work, his dedication, and his intelligence. His sarcastic remarks, unfairly handsome face and the way he expressed himself. Doyoung slowly tried to leave everything in the past. Of course, it was not easy to move on, but now that he _was_ in fact happy for Ten and Kun, all of his bitterness had ebbed away - he could focus on something else. His study for example.

And someone else.

I didn’t take long for him to spot Ten. Despite his short height, he was a very noticeable presence wherever he came. He was currently conversing with Kun, rubbing over the Chinese man’s arms in a soothing gesture. Doyoung smiled to himself; Yuta wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

“Come on,” he told Yuta. “Let’s get this over with.”

When Ten spotted him, he waved excitingly and dragged Kun behind him by his arm. Doyoung didn’t even have time to greet either of them before Ten was embracing him. Doyoung returned the hug hesitantly.

“Hi. I’m glad to see you healthy.”

Doyoung felt a smile blossom on his face. “Hey. Yeah, me too. Congratulations on your graduation.”

And then Kun stepped forward, expression more serious than he had ever seen. He suddenly took hold of his hands.

“Are you really okay? I was so worried when Taeyong told me you were still getting surgery and you didn’t answer my texts after that and I-”

Kun was interrupted when Ten slapped his arm. The Chinese man shot him a warning look but wanted to release Doyoung’s hands, an apology on his lips.

But Doyoung held onto them and squeezed.

“I’m okay. I need some more time to fully recover, but I’ll be alright. Thank you for worrying.”

Kun’s wide eyes stared at him. He looked like he was about to cry.

Doyoung took the opportunity to turn towards Yuta. “This is my uh… former therapist, Yuta, the one who made this possible and the one you wanted to meet.”

Yuta smiled at the two men and bowed. “Nakamoto Yuta. Nice to meet you.”

“Thank you.”

It was said breathlessly, thankfulness dripping from his voice like honey. Kun bowed. “Really, thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”

Yuta, obviously touched by the words, shook his head. “It was my pleasure, but I just did my work.”

Ten reached out to Yuta and put a hand on his shoulder. “I hope you know we both mean it when we say we’re thankful. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be able to stand here together.”

Doyoung watched the scene unfold with a fond look. He was proud of Yuta. The older man radiated happy vibes, eyes twinkling. It was quite hard to take his eyes off him. He looked the most handsome like that, Doyoung decided.

“So,” Ten broke the silence, dragging out the ‘o’. “Are you two…?” He didn’t finish his question but the insinuation was clear.  

In shock, Yuta and Doyoung gave each other a look before Yuta waved his hands in front of him.

“No, it’s not like that! Right?” Yuta’s face screamed panic.

_Right. We’re not._

Doyoung quickly shot at him a reassuring twitch of his mouth, before facing Ten with a roll of his eyes.

“No Chittaphon, we’re not together.”

Ten hummed in a way that made it obvious that he didn’t believe them. “If you say so.” The Thai man then closed in on Yuta.

“I’ve been wondering this for the longest time, but how did I cause Doyoungie to throw up that root? If someone would know, it’s you.”

Doyoung’s eye twitched at the ridiculously annoying nickname and eyed Yuta, waiting for a professional answer that he too didn’t know. But of course, Yuta was always full of surprises.

The Japanese doctor’s eyes lit up at the question. “Oh! I can answer that actually. It’s very interesting! So, when you admitted that you still loved Doyoung after you broke up with him all those years ago, it kind of resolved the unrequited love from back then. Since Doyoung here had already sorted out his feelings for Kun, his past feelings for you were the only reason for the Hanahaki to sustain. When you,” Yuta airquoted, “Confessed, and showed him how much you cared about him still, you basically saved him.”

Ten clapped in glee. “Is that right?” He nudged Kun. “So, I’m the real savior here, ha.”

Kun sighed. “I’m sure if it wasn’t for Doctor Nakamoto, Doyoung wouldn’t have realized he still had feelings for you in the first place, so you can drop that haughty attitude.”

“It’s Yuta,” Yuta told Kun with a chuckle. “Call me Yuta, please.”

Kun nodded. “Yuta.”

Ten rolled his eyes at his boyfriend’s politeness and suddenly offered Yuta his hand, palm up. Yuta regarded it in confusion.

“Care for a dance? I have some more questions for you if you don’t mind.”

Doyoung carefully awaited Yuta’s reply. The older man was obviously caught off guard by the request, but he quickly recovered and straightened his shoulders, before giving Ten a nod accompanied with a laugh.

Yuta laid his hand in Ten’s. “I’d like that.”

It was weird watching them walk to the dance floor together. His first love and his-

“He’s nice. I really like him.”

Doyoung whipped around at the words, staring at Kun in surprise. The Chinese man’s expression was very transparent. Kun never held back showing affection to the people he cared about; he had always been like a gentle wave falling over his life. Even falling in love with him had been slow and graceful.

Kun extended his hand to him then. “I’d like to dance with you.” And who would Doyoung be to say no?

-

Dancing with Kun was nice. They both didn’t have a particular talent for it, but maybe that’s why dancing together was simple yet pleasant. They softly swayed to the music; one of Doyoung’s hands holding Kun’s, the other on his partner’s waist. They didn’t talk for a while. Doyoung was afraid he’d ruin the moment by initiating the conversation. They hadn’t talked ever since he had shown up at Kun’s doorstep that day to confess.

He didn’t have to though, because Kun did instead.

“He likes you. Yuta, I mean. It’s quite obvious. He thinks he’s subtle about it, but the look in his eyes says it all.”

Doyoung watched over Kun’s shoulder to where Yuta was dancing with Ten, both chatting animatedly and moving over the dancefloor with graceful steps at the same time. Affection filled his chest.

“He does, huh?”

Kun chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t pry further. I’m happy you found someone.”

Doyoung stared at Kun. His handsome face, cute dimples, sparkling eyes. He was used to his heart skipping a beat and his face heating up, but now there was no such thing, only a deep appreciation.

“You’re so casual about this.”

Kun shrugged. “I could make it awkward, but that brings us nowhere. The fact that you and Ten were still in love with each other was a surprise, but I’m just glad we all seem to have our happy ending.”

Doyoung only now realized that Ten’s feelings for him were still present when he was dating Kun.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.”

Kun shook his head. “Don’t be. It’s no one’s fault and I know Ten genuinely likes me.”

“Love,” Doyoung corrected him. “He loves you, Kun.”

The Chinese man’s eyes widened before he suddenly pulled Doyoung closer. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for trying everything to not forget about us. Thank you for being my friend.”

Doyoung closed his eyes, taking in the words with relief. For a long time in his healing process, he had mulled over the question of whether he had made the right decision. However, it was clear that this was the solution with the most perfect outcome. He dared to say that all of this had brought him closer to both Ten and Kun.

And he had met Yuta.

Kun suddenly chuckled and Doyoung drew back from the hug.

“I think there’s someone else who’d like to dance with you.”

“Hm?”

Kun gestured for him to turn around. When he did, he came face to face with a slightly nervous looking Yuta.

“Can I steal him from you for a bit?” The Japanese man asked Kun, who immediately nodded.

“Of course.” Then he turned to Doyoung and bowed to his ear. “Don’t be afraid.” He whispered. “I think you like him more than you think.” Harder, he added. “See you later!” Like that he left the pair, probably on the search for Ten.

Kun’s words made Doyoung aware of his fears regarding his feelings for Yuta. The tightening in his chest tonight had solely revolved around the Doctor. Every conversation, every spike of his heartbeat.

Yuta had already shown him that he was interested.

_Don’t be afraid._

Maybe it was his turn now.

With some courage, Doyoung stepped forward and took Yuta’s hand in his, laying his other one on the elder’s waist resolutely. Yuta shot him a surprised smile not expecting him to take the lead, probably.

“I didn’t know you could dance.” A hand was placed on his shoulder.

Doyoung shrugged. “I can’t, but I don’t think I have to.”

Yuta shook his head in amusement. “Shut up.”

And Doyoung did. Gently, they moved to the music that had turned slower and more graceful to dance to. Doyoung was sure he almost stepped on Yuta’s feet several times, but even if he did, the other didn’t complain. After a while, their eyes found each other and Doyoung felt a familiar flutter in his abdomen.

“Don’t confuse thankfulness for feelings, okay?” Yuta whispered suddenly, squeezing his shoulder. His face was contorted in a frown. “Don’t force yourself to feel things. I mean, I _was_ your doctor. It’s easy to confuse-”

“You’re not anymore,” Doyoung interrupted him. “Thankfulness doesn’t make me want to dance with you. Thankfulness doesn’t make me feel the way I feel right now. You’ve told me all about it before, remember?”

“That’s what you’re saying _now,_ but what if-”

“Can you please stop thinking for me?” Doyoung answered, frustration slowly rising. “Who are you to tell me what I can and can not feel?”

They had stopped moving, only holding each other. Yuta let go of his shoulder, but Doyoung kept his hand in a tight grip.

“I just don’t want you to make a mistake,” Yuta admitted.

“Then what do _you_ feel?”

Yuta’s eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed without really saying anything. For a moment nothing was said - the silence was almost deafening since they had muted out the music playing in the background. It was just them. Just Yuta and Doyoung.

In the end, Yuta took a deep breath. “T-the way you love is something I’ve never really seen before. It’s so unique, so beautiful and I- During our sessions, you had this spark in your eyes whenever you talked about Kun. Slowly, only towards the end, I started wondering what it’s like to be at the receiving end of that kind of love.”

Yuta looked at him, Doyoung felt breathless.

“You’re beautiful, Doyoung,” he whispered. “More so than any flower.”  

The words touched him so deeply - he didn’t think he had ever received such a meaningful compliment - that Doyoung felt heat rise to his cheeks. His heart reacted immediately; a spark turned into a flame, setting off fireworks that had waited to explode all this time.

He let go of Yuta’s hand and brought it to his cheek. “You know, after reflecting on a few things, it became clear to me that it’s been _you_ all along; when I got rid of the Bluebells, symbolizing stability and thankfulness, and Lily of the Valley that stood for the bringer of happiness. I only got rid of them because Kun wasn’t the cause of them anymore. The source of those feelings had become you.”

He inhaled deeply. “I will never forget what you did for me, but it’s _you:_ your mind, your heart, your stupid face, that make it different. That make me want to do _this._ ”

Without waiting for a green flag or response, Doyoung leaned in and captured Yuta’s lips in a gentle kiss. Yuta had totally stiffened under his hold, but just when he wanted to retreat, thinking he overstepped a boundary, Yuta pressed his lips back on his, hands sliding around his neck.

It was all Doyoung needed to wrap both his arms around Yuta’s waist to pull him closer and angling his head to the left.

There were no thoughts about the past, no lingering feelings holding him back. Just this man and his velvety lips.

When Doyoung drew back, he noticed that Yuta’s face had turned a light shade of red. That he was breathing a little heavier than before. The fact that he had that effect on the usually so collected Yuta, made his head spin. He wanted to explore this feeling of belonging more. To fully develop it and see where it would bring them.

And so he said:

“I’d like to try and fall in love with you.”

Yuta’s response was to cup his cheeks and pull him into another kiss. For the first time, Doyoung experienced how it felt for his feelings to be reciprocated, and how _different_ it was in contrast with his former unrequited ones. He could start over, this time for real.

He could breathe again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read it through to the end! I really hope you enjoyed it and that it didn't disappoint. I’m so nervous>< It was a lot of fun to write, even though I also wanted to pull out my hair out of frustration several times (what was I thinking signing up for this???).  
> I’m aware that the pacing and the characterizations are not my strongest points, but I hope to improve more as I keep on writing.
> 
> I would really appreciate hearing your honest opinion!  
> All the love,  
> honEy D | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/WalkYuHome?s=09)


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